Evil's Mistress
by SeanEmma4Evr
Summary: Everyone knows and loves Hermione Granger. What is not to love? However, after Hermione was taken by the Dark Lord, then corrupted and seduced by Draco Malfoy, a secret was born. What side is Hermione really on? HGDM. CBMTD.
1. What They Didn't Realize

This story is "the challenge" which, for those of you who don't know, was something I posted in my last fic, "Iris". I asked my readers what they wanted me to write, basic things for a story and such, and I chose two people's suggestions which I thought would be not only a challenge, but fun to read. I will be following everything to the best of my ability.

_StormMasters—_

_Three things to be included:_ Death of a main character, the Fourth of July, and A Pair of Black Leather Boots.

_Three things not to be included:_ Ron is not there (can be mentioned, but will have NO dialogue), Pansy Parkinson, and cannot use the word magic (Don't know how I'll do this, but I'll try my best).

_Kaylerose—_

_Three things to be included:_ A difficult choice, a close call, and a battle scene.

_Three things not to be included:_ A character that was not created by J.K. Rowling, Pansy Parkinson, and Hermione crying all the time.

This story will be completely different, plot wise, from any of the stories I have written before and I'm looking forward to starting this. There is suppose to be ten chapters, but that is subject to change - in a big way. With that, happy reading everyone!

* * *

**What They Didn't Realize - Chapter 1**

Hermione was sitting in the dark outskirts of the murky forest behind the Burrow. She was dangling her feet near the edge of the stream which flowed throughout the countryside mountaintop. The place was positively serene and the perfect local for a witch to think properly, away from the chaotic jumble in the Burrow, and in her mind altogether.

The dark blue, pellucid-like water was swaying from the cool breeze, spraying her unfeeling feet with droplets of icy water.

She did not want to be there.

Not at all.

Nobody could understand her there. It was plausible given what had just happened to her. Harry himself—Merlin himself, for that matter—could not imagine what had happened to her in there. So many nights she laid awake screaming and sobbing in hopes of getting home, to get back to her family, but to no avail. She had spent so much time there, away from the people she loved, to the point where she lost a true sense of reality and of herself.

It all started one day a year ago when Hermione, Ron, and Harry were enjoying the crisp December air of Hogsmeade, their sixth year venturing by with so much pandemonium. It was enjoyable for the three of them to get away from the wizarding world, in a certain sense, and just be free to be alone. The devoted friends chatted pleasantly with one another, playful banter mixed with laughter brought smiles from onlookers and envious listeners who dreamed to be involved and a part of such a friendship.

Nothing could come between them.

Right?

It was at the Shrieking Shack when everything went horribly wrong. The affable friends were staring at the abandoned building before Hermione chucked a snowball at the male duo. After a few minutes time, the three of them were sprawled on the ground, covered head to toe in snow, laughing wholeheartedly.

It was ironically a warm moment.

Their laughter had been one of the many problems Harry would later recognize for it drowned out the approaching footsteps. How many, none of them could quite remember. All Hermione would later recall was laughing until all went black and she awoke in unfamiliar territories with several faces she would never forget.

Hermione had been taken to _his _lair, a place she hated so much at the time. All the dark figures and creepy statuaries made her feel as though she was literally beneath ground in the fiery pits of Hell. What was worse? Harry and Ron, the two people she remembered being with last, were nowhere in sight.

Mudblood.

She remembered hearing the horrid word numerous times in the mixture of muddled and random voices surrounding her on all sides; some voices female, most male. Everything was happening so fast to the point where she lost track of time, like she felt the moments constricting. It wasn't until she saw _him _herself, for first time in her life, that time stopped. For the briefest of ticks, she stared at the man without any regards to where she was, who was surrounding her, what was going to happen, or any of the mess she was in; she just stared, blankly as well.

The first time he spoke, her entire being clenched with fear and a bitter chill plagued her body by running up and down her quivering spine. If death had a voice, the Dark Lord possessed it in physical form. She was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. Unlike other occasions where she had at least her boys with her, fighting along her side, or the countless of other times when she had the Order members fighting next to her, she was alone.

Utterly alone.

In a room full of dark wizards.

The darkest one speaking to her.

Yeah, it was safe to say that she knew death was imminent. So...why didn't she end up dead?

It actually had been heading in the death direction. Voldemort never had any intentions of keeping her around when he sent those death eaters to nab the three of them. One could imagine his disappointment and frustration when he realized only two of them had come, the one in particular he wanted not part of the pair. He disposed of the redhead quickly, the boy's face a mixture of dread and foreseeable acceptance, a look which just said 'well, bugger me' painted on his expression. He was about to kill the next one, the bushy-haired girl, until a stroke of brilliance hit him.

If he could not bring Harry Potter to him then he would send himself, in a way, to Harry Potter. He would learn from her how to get to him. Get her to trust him so she would spill out the deepest and most personal of Harry Potter's many secrets. The plan was perfect. All he had to do was mold the mudblood a little bit.

But, alas, another factor of the situation he needed to consider. Who would mold her precisely? As much as he would have loved to do it, he was a busy wizard and could not be with her every second of every day. No, it had to be someone who could break her down entirely. But who?

Draco Malfoy.

Perfect solution, no? She already knew him on a level she did not know anyone else in his circle of followers, all of whom would have loved to spend some quality time with her. They had to admit that she was a rather pretty girl and unlike most of the women belonging to the dark arts, most of whom possessed an insane-like quality about their appearance, Hermione was young and beautiful. Voldemort was the cruelest and would not have cared any other time what they did to her physically or any other muggle-born creature, but he could not do that in this occasion.

On top of it all, the Malfoy kid was the same age as the mudblood. He would be able to relate to her through age and possibly on a better degree than anyone else. Perhaps, given the chance, he could engage in a few activities to sway her opinion altogether. After all, he did have a reputation with the ladies.

It was not to say Draco immediately jumped for joy over this assignment. His father had been the one to inform and he threw a tantrum to match a three year old in Ollivander's wand shop. Draco had refused the assignment stating, this being a direct quote—

"_I am not going to devote my precious time to some mudblood swine! She is nothing more than filth and I refuse to be a part of such a ruse on the grounds of it involving her. I simply will not do it!"_

Needless to say, he caved into the demands as soon as Voldemort breathed a word of it. Draco had no other chose. One never disobeyed the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale so he had to do it. He was forced to seduce the mudblood bitch Granger.

He didn't want to...at the time, at least.

Their first meeting had been far from ideal. Hermione had been tossed into a room, an extremely gorgeous room filled with lavish furnish and fine linens and lovely mirrors and—okay, it was beautiful to say the least, and been told to wait for instructions.

After several failed attempts to get out, bad attempts too given there were no windows and only one door, she merely sank onto the bed and waited. No tears. She would not give them the pleasure of knowing they had made her cry so she remained strong and refused to let any tears spill down her cheeks. No. None would fall. Never.

All the while she continued to reassure herself of all the emotions she would never let leave her body, Draco Malfoy entered the room and surveyed the situation before him. The mudblood was on the bed apparently talking to herself. Oh yes, he was dripping with excitement to deal with the situation. He mentally slapped himself knowing all of this was about duty and honor, nothing more, so he needed to start focusing rather than just spitting on the scene before him...

"_Granger," he said distastefully, the pain her name brought nearly burning his tongue._

_Hermione's head shot up and she stared at him in bewilderment. The confusion soon left to be replaced with malice and vengeful anger._

"_You! Oh Merlin, he was bloody right! Harry always knew you were involved with...with..._with this _and nobody would ever listen to him! Curse me for being one of the many..."_

"_Calm yourself Granger. Right now, well, let's say that I come in peace–"_

"_Oh shut it you bloody git! Why are you all doing this to me?!"_

"_First I'm told to shut up and then asked to speak. What exactly do you want from me Granger?"_

"_I want to know what's going on. No patronizing, no games, no nothing, but just tell me. What is happening?!"_

_Draco fell silent. As he listened to her heavy panting, built up from her lack of breathing during her moment of fuming rage, he thought about what he was going to say. He knew he had to choose his next words carefully if he was going to start this off right._

"_Granger, look I know you're scared and I would be too," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "but you need to calm yourself. Getting mad the way you are will not solve anything other than piss us both off more. Do you want that?"_

"_At this point, I don't know what I want. I was thrown in here without the knowledge of so much as the time of day let alone why I am bloody here so please, _please_, do me one small favor and have the tiniest amount of mercy by just informing me as to why I am here."_

_The blond boy sighed before he replied, "You're here because you're Harry Potter's best mate. What better way to hurt him than to go through one of the members of the Golden Trio?"_

_Draco was rather proud of himself, coming up with a truth through a lie, knowing full well there was more to the story. He chose to leave out how Ron had already been taken care of, permanently, knowing how much it would affect her. He also chose to leave out what this would mean and in the future what she would have to do. He was smart enough to know how the blunt of the truth would have sent her into a whirlwind of hysteria to the point of possible assault on him and the last thing he needed was another punch from the bitch Granger._

"_Why me? Why not Ron or even Harry himself?! Don't you dark wizards ever bloody think?"_

"_Don't you? I mean even if they were our targets, why point it out to us if you even had the slightest idea we would go after them? Come on Granger, I thought you were smarter than that."_

_Hermione looked away and Draco could see the flash of bitter anger behind her facade of sadness. It was this flash which confused him. He would have expected her to hide behind anger while masking her fear rather than the other way around. He had a feeling and most likely anyone who would understand her current predicament would have had the feeling, she was already in the midst of planning something. However, unlike the ones who did not know her, Draco would not underestimate her._

"_Granger I know you're scared, but–"_

"_Leave me alone," she whispered sadly; "Just leave me. I know I'm stuck here at this point so just leave me."_

_And he did._

_As soon as he left, she entranced herself in deep thoughts of how to get out of there. He had been right. She had chosen to hide behind her sadness while she silently plotted through her anger. She thought the technique would bring about her escape through time given nobody would notice her otherwise. They would expect her to be sad. They would expect her to be homesick and calling out for her family._

_And she would._

_At the same time, none the less, she would be plotting. Who would notice a silent mourner, right?_

_Wrong._

Draco Malfoy had caught on and right quick. It wasn't long before he was reading into her, hard and deep, on a more personal level than maybe even Ron and Harry had ever read into her. This would lead to her downfall. This would lead to her demise.

Do not think for one second it was an easy accomplishment. Hermione built a wall in front of her which was to keep death eaters, like Malfoy, away from her inner thoughts. She did not want to be corrupted for she knew it was precisely what they wanted.

It was her kindness, her good-natured side, which led the corruption to commence.

One must remember, the good are more likely to forgive and forget than the dark side. The good side always wants to believe in people, believe they have a warm center beneath the icy coating of their dark hearts. Hermione sure as Merlin knew Voldemort was beyond any reasonable help. Come on, the girl did have some common sense and was said to be the smartest bloody person of her age. No, it wasn't the Dark Lord she started to have faith in.

It was Draco.

For months upon months, December to April, she fought with him nearly everyday until her voice went raw and hoarse. She hated him—a fiery type of passionate hate. She was starting to get the feeling through his patronizing and snarky remarks that he was just a mean spirit in a body.

"_Horrid bloody creature!"_

The name was always ringing in Draco's ears, long after he had left her room for it was her favorite thing to call him. At first he enjoyed hearing those words about him roll off her tongue. It meant that there was nothing, but mutual hatred between them. It was the way he liked it.

Once the Dark Lord informed him to make better progress or face the consequences...well, let's just say he no longer wanted to hear the name. He had to figure out a way to get the mudbl—Granger to trust him.

Never in all of his years of living did he expect to...love her.

Love.

The concept was foreign to the blond boy having had little experience with the subject. Sure there had been Slytherin girls who feasted on him and vice versa, but never had he loved any of them. There was a family bond one could call love which he felt for his parents, but even that was a bit sketchy. So falling for her was not something he had planned on.

Love was precisely what had happened. Initially, Draco denied he had feelings for her rationalizing simply that, _"I'm just getting closer to her. It's nothing more than my attempt to get close to the bitch. For my seduction to work, I need to get closer to the mudblood."_

Yes, his reasoning was simple enough. He _had _to do this and there was no other thing to it. In so dealing with this game of seduction, his plan leapt forward into full force on one particular day in April...

"_Granger...I swear it, you're becoming more insufferable by the day. Can't you just try to look at the bright side? I mean you're being held captive and not only are you in perfect health but living in luxury. I would think you would be grateful."_

"_Grateful? Grateful?! How dare you say such a thing. I should be grateful to have friends and family who are surely looking for me. I know they are. Can you say that? Who would care if you were taken, Malfoy?"_

"_I know a great deal of people who would care. Have you not noticed the place you're in? Aside from the Dark Lord, has not everyone shown an extreme amount of loyalty and devotion to one another? Just because our reasoning and cause goes against yours does not mean we're not one in the same. We all care about each other just as your Order does."_

_Hermione fell silent immediately. There was always another side to every story, but for the first time in her life, someone had confronted her on those grounds. It didn't change how mad she was, but still hushed her which Draco took to his advantage._

_Slytherins always took such things to their advantage._

"_Why can't you just try Granger? Why can't you just attempt to lighten up and perhaps see things from another angle?"_

"_Would you? If the situation were reversed, completely disregarding how we would never keep someone against their will like this without probable-bloody-cause, would you pretend to be happy and pretend to believe in something you were completely against? Would you?!"_

_It was Draco's turn to fall into an utmost silence, her words somewhat chafing him. It chafed him because he did not really know the answer. Would he? Would he pretend to be happy? Hell no! No, he'd be hostile to the extreme and go down fighting before he ever succumbed into the radical thoughts of the Golden Boy, Potter. So, in a way, he was on Hermione's side in this._

_He would never admit to this out loud, but he suddenly felt acutely sorry for the girl._

"_You have yet to answer which is answer enough."_

"_No, it's not. Perhaps I'm just choosing my words wisely so why don't you stop judging so soon."_

"_Then answer, Malfoy."_

"_I think you need to remember Granger just how big this is. It's not–"_

"_Completely irrelevant and you're just brushing on some broad thing regarding it. Answer the question. If you were in my position, would you not speak out for your cause?"_

"_I would. Alright, I would speak out, but only to a degree. You're practically begging for death!"_

"_Then you're just proving you're a coward if you would only speak out and then halter to avoid death. I do not fear such a fate!"_

"_Perhaps you should fear me!"_

_Draco lunged forward expecting her reaction to be blank, to just stare him down as she always did, and he was greeted with just as he predicted; Hermione's gaze was harsh, odious. Their breath was mixing for their anger had brought about an exhilarating excitement; his hot, hers sweet. _

_Without anymore coherent and rational thoughts, Draco pressed his lips to hers. It was not a kiss she returned nor did she appear to have any feelings about it other than bewilderment; she was truly perplexed. Draco pulled back quickly, smirking when he watched her skin change from a heated crimson to a ghost-white pale. _

_Seduction._

Oh, how sweet it is_, he thought._

_It would be a few moments before Hermione broke her gaze which alerted Draco immediately just how tight she was wrapped now about his finger. When one is involved in the battle of the eyes, dance of the gazes, the first person to break the gawp is the one who loses the control. Draco had made Hermione break his gaze, thus winning the small battle. She was his._

_His plan was working and working well._

Muddy blood aside, she is quite the cute girl. Fuck—she did have soft lips. I love girls with soft lips. Perhaps this whole seduction thing won't be so bad. Maybe killing two birds with one spell wouldn't be so bad. I should figure out a way to gain something in all of this myself.

_Yes, his reasoning was logical. It was all about the game of seduction._

_Right?_

Well, his seduction did continue as time progressed through the long months Hermione was forced to stay there. During certain junctures of her stay she had thought about trying to escape. Without a wand and knowledge of her location, well, she was downright screwed. What was she to do?

All she could do was spend time with Draco. Time. Lots of time. Time to get to "know" him. Time away from what she had grown accustom to. Time away from her world of love and kind hearts. Time away from Harry, Ron, and the people she cared most about.

Time away from good thoughts.

So you see, Draco's seduction of her was working. You see, one must remember what happens when a person is constantly surrounded by bad thoughts. Eventually those bad thoughts become routine and it becomes easier and easier to submit into them, to let the good and kind thoughts drift away. Hermione was silently plotting and bottling up her anger in hopes of getting free. So much time encompassed with nothing other than these malicious and hateful thoughts started to take a toll.

Just as Draco, along with the Dark Lord, wanted; she was giving into the darkness.

For months and months she just...was with Draco. It took several of those months for him to coax out of her the ability to use his first name. Strangely enough, the first time his name left her lips, he had not initiated it that time; she chose to say it...

"_I just love the winter," said Draco cooly, his eyes scanning over the book laid out in his lap._

_Hermione was seated on the bed and looked up upon hearing his voice start up a casual conversation. A sly smile played on her lips, urging the upper corners to lift ever so slightly. Most would have missed it, but Draco didn't._

"_I like the chill the snow brings. Something about freezing until numbness takes over is just appealing."_

"_I think I'm starting to feel numb, Draco."_

_He lifted up instantaneously, his ice-blue eyes locking with her dark orbs. First off, he was dumbstruck, an expression foreign to him, at her use of his first name. Second, her words seemed odd, as though he could not exactly place what she meant by 'feeling numb'._

"_Granger–"_

"_I know. I must sound mad, but I'm not. I'm not crazy. I'm not losing it. I just feel...numb. I can't even recall the last time I heard a familiar voice. Well, other than yours and it's not exactly the familiarity I mean."_

"_Potter and such, right? Granger you need to let them go. As of now, the chance you'll ever see them again is slim. You have a new family."_

"_I...I'm starting to understand."_

Bloody Hell! It only took her until fucking May to realize it. Well then...perhaps she is ready.

"_Then are you finally ready to meet your family?"_

_For a long period, several passing minutes, silence besieged the room while Draco waited for an answer. He could see the war in her eyes, wondering whether she should take this step, to meet the people who had kidnaped her, taken her away from her life. She was suppose to be in her sixth year of Hogwarts, preparing herself for the N.E.W.T. exams which would be held the following year. She should have been dully watching quidditch matches and helping, more like actually writing out herself, Harry and Ron's potion homework._

_She was suppose to be Hermione._

"_Granger?"_

"_Y-yes...I'm ready to meet to meet them."_

_Draco smirked. He'd gotten the upper hand and Hermione was feasting out of it. Oh yes, his seduction was working. The Dark Lord, as well as his father, would be pleased._

And they were.

Hermione had been taken out of the room by Draco for the first time in the middle of May. It was not at all what she had expected. Aside from the dark scenery and frightening images hung all over the walls, the place looked similar to how the ministry was. Everything was in order; the people, what appeared to be desks, the rooms, and so forth. Hermione actually liked it for it was the opposite of the Order's headquarters. Grimmauld place was nothing more than a dirty house with vast quantities of disordered equipment, papers, and belongings. At least the Dark Lord was organized.

She liked organized.

Already Hermione was starting to relate the place to what she knew, what she could remember, of her life at the headquarters. It was as though she subconsciously knew she had to make the most of the situation. She was mentally slapping herself at the time for saying it was better, but for Hermione's taste and style, it was.

The people of the castle were intensely unalike the Order members. When one walked by an Order member, usually light conversation was exchanged or at the very least a smile was presented to the other, but the Death Eaters were far different. The whole place reminded Hermione of a beehive; Voldemort was the queen, and oh how she loved thinking of him that way–inwardly giggling to herself, while the Death Eaters were the workers, completing whatever tasks they had silently and dutifully.

All of this struck her anomalous. Somehow she expected them to all be like Crabbe and Goyle; stupid cronies incapable of doing anything other than pummeling those weaker than themselves and nodding dumbly when somebody, like Draco, asked them a basic yes or no question. Never did she expect everyone to be so...devoted and respectful.

Hermione had completely misjudged everything about the place. Well, in her defense, most people of the wizarding world expected Voldemort's castle to be more like a cult worship; all of his followers would drink blood as they honored him for all he was worth.

This—this severe loyal way of conducting everything just seemed astonishing.

Even Hermione would be one to admit when she was wrong. Okay, maybe it wasn't in her nature to say it aloud, but she would say it to herself none the less. During that moment, she certainly was.

Further into the honesty, Hermione could say the place suited her personality better.

While she watched the various death eaters work on their own private tasks, Draco kept his gaze on her. Again he saw the type of war battling behind her bronzy eyes, glittering with gold specks of anguish. He could tell the sight before her challenged her beliefs. She was raised to not underestimate the enemy yet she somehow managed to do so, well, considering everyone did; good or bad. There was always a reason to doubt in the others and believe more in yourself; Hermione was no different. Draco loved seeing this in her.

On her first night outside of the room, a room she had literally been in for months upon months, she was just quiet.

She was observing.

Draco observed her.

Oh, how the silence seemed to be working in both of their favors.

With the passing weeks, Hermione spent a considerable amount of time just listening and watching with profound interest. Draco could not help but think it seemed as though she were like a wild flower in a patch of grass. There was something about the girl which captivated him.

Somebody else noticed this...

"_Young Malfoy," drawled the long, snake-like voice of the Dark Lord._

"_Yes Master?"_

"_It appears the girl has finally come out on her own terms, correct?"_

"_Sir I did not lure her out. She wanted to see the place on her own free will after I made the suggestion. I did not force her in any way."_

"_Good," concluded Voldemort, "That is very good. You've done well."_

"_Thank you, master," said Draco quietly._

"_What do you think about the girl?"_

_Draco lips immediately pursed and his muscles clenched in every part of his body. It was one thing to be asked questions about how he was handling the situation, but directly asking his opinion on a girl he grew up hating was something different. He did not like it._

"_Um..."_

"_Calm yourself, Draco, this is not a life or death question."_

_Hearing those words was a good thing; for on occasions, certain questions could result in life or death._

"_Well um, I guess she...what exactly are you asking?"_

"_Is she smart? Do I need to spell it out? Is this too bloody difficult for you?"_

_Draco gulped before he said, "She's a genius, sir. Not only is she naturally smart, but she has the ability to just take on anything and grasp it."_

_Voldemort's face contorted into a sneer which Draco could only assume was the closest thing to a smile he could muster. His red slits were blazing with ideas and it actually bothered Draco to be so close to him, in the same room that is._

"_She'll be perfect for our side."_

"_Wait, I-I thought you just wanted to take information from her. Learn from her on how to get to Harry Potter."_

"_Oh that was initially my plan. Now I've got other things in mind and refrain from asking me things when you're not fucking spoken to."_

_Again, Draco gulped; thickly._

"_No, I think we're going to keep her around for a long time. Aside her being a mudblood, she would do well here. Looking at this logically," he emphasized, seemingly talking to Draco when he was really talking to himself; "I see her as something not to be wasted. We can't let her go back to Potter because she would be an advantage to them. We kill her, then she is just a waste. We keep her and use her, well, then I think we could benefit. Screw getting information. I think we should send her out."_

_Draco's eyes widened. Had he heard correctly?_

"_We can't send her yet. We need to get her completely on our side and after seeing her these past weeks, it's possible. We can get her to shift."_

_Draco was fidgeting and Voldemort noticed._

"_You may speak."_

"_Um...with all utmost respect, sir, Granger is more stubborn than anyone I've ever met. The chances of her being that corrupted are highly unlikely. I...I—I see her choosing death before that."_

"_Which is why you'll continue what you're doing." The Dark Lord spoke with a malicious tone as he continued, "I've watched her and I know she likes what she sees. She may not exactly agree with us, _yet_, but she does like how we conduct our business. We've already pulled her in and now it's time to finalize it. Make-this-happen. Clear?"_

"_Yes, master."_

After the meeting, things started happening very fast. Draco was doing anything and everything to gain Hermione's trust and ignite more fuel for the fire in regards to her viewing of the dark side. What was crazy was it appeared to be working.

Hermione still was locked in the room during all other times, Draco her only companion really, but her demeanor was changing.

Especially with Draco.

The two of them were fighting infrequently, over the most insignificant of things, and sitting in awkward silences more than ever. Aside from the little kiss they shared (Draco had really kissed her more than she kissed him), the two had not engaged in anything more. Draco found this amusing given any time it even so much as looked like he was thinking about it, her cheeks would blush incessantly until a change of subject was brought up.

It would not be until a hot summer day in July, the fourth to be exact, when everything would change. That was the day when Draco had kissed her and Hermione had kissed him back.

It was all over now.

She had given herself to Draco.

Her mind was now his.

So as their relationship progressed, Hermione became more involved with the dark side than she was even realizing. Her comments only went to Draco's ears, at least so she thought, and they were generally about remarks on handling certain situations.

Before she knew it—before any of them knew it—Hermione was far darker than any of them could have expected her to be. It had been their methods of handling their business which had struck her attention, but Draco had been the one to win her over.

When William Shakespeare, surprisingly the son of a rather intelligent and crafty wizard of the 16th century whose abilities had disappointedly not been passed over to the most famous of play writers, claimed 'love is blind', he must have foreseen this particular occurrence.

Hermione had fallen for Draco. It was not to say her love wasn't returned for it was acutely so a mutual admiration and love for the other. Draco had tried to deny it, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed wrong to question his feelings.

She was the prefect counterpart for him; she was brilliant and capable of challenging him on an intellectual level, he himself very bright; she was exceptionally stubborn, again much like him which kept him from winning all the time–something he actually happened to like; she had to have been blessed by Merlin for her beauty just seemed to outshine all the rest. Draco thought her even more appealing when their was mischief and darkness in her eyes.

Hermione was positively perfect for him. He may have been a supremacist, still believing in his superior above all others, but he would make the exception for her; for he loved her.

So when the time came for them to separate and her to take on her first assignment, thus proving whether she could belong with them, it was hard on them both. Draco did not want to part from her for even the briefest of times. He had been attending Hogwarts for his sixth and seventh years, moving back and forth through late night and weekend portkeys and much help from a certain potions master, doing well to keep people from thinking he had anything to do with Hermione Granger's disappearance; he had a feeling she would be attending there as well, but it surely would be much later. Knowing the Order and given she had been taken during December of her sixth year at Hogwarts, returning the following December...well, who the hell would send her back immediately?

Draco had a feeling it would be hard on the both of them. Neither wanted to part.

However, Hermione had made it clear it was necessary for her to prove herself. She wanted to be with him, to let people know how much she loved him, but she would have to endure this first.

They had parted with a kiss and she had been left near Diagon Alley, battered and bruised to give the allusion of the physical trauma she had to face in order to escape.

It was how she had been found; by Tonks no less, something the Order was thankful for. This kept Hermione out of the press, for a while, and free from the hassles of the wizarding world. Hermione was free to be with them, to be healed and nursed back to health, and to be herself for the briefest of times.

Which was why she was at the Burrow.

To heal.

Only in her mind, she was alone. The Burrow was no longer her home nor did she want anything to do with it. She wanted to be at home, with Draco; with the rest of her _family_.

"Hermione?"

Hermione was brought out of her reverie by the sound of Harry's voice, a sound she loved once upon a time.

"Yes Harry?"

"It's rather cold. Why don't you come back inside and for Merlin's sake, put some shoes on! How can you be in the snow without any shoes on?!"

As Harry fussed over her, taking off his own jacket to place around his friend, she smiled at him. He took it as nothing more than a friendly gesture when really it was the most cruel smile she probably had ever displayed.

For what Harry and the others did not understand about Hermione's recent arrival back to their warm embraces was that Hermione did not escape from Voldemort's evil clutches...

**She was released.**

**

* * *

**

A/N: Alright, so what do you guys think? I know, I know---lots of information in the chapter, but I needed to build up the back story. The following chapters will have much more interaction with the present time. This plot is unlike anything I've done before so I hope it's up to par with surprising you guys. Oh and I'm sure the readers who have read my prior stories know that I ALWAYS have surprises and twists up my sleeves. Don't ever expect anything with me.

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	2. Innocent

**Innocent - Chapter 2**

Though Hermione seemed to be, by all critical outward appearances, just like the pretty girl they had grown accustom to, Hermione looked different. Her hair was by far longer than anyone was use to and was onyx black, something none of them were too fond of. Even when they teased her and mocked her for having the bushiest of brown hair, it was_ her_ hair and it made her who she was. Hermione without it was just...weird.

Black hair?

On Hermione?

"So..." started Ginny, unsure exactly what to talk about. The two were in Ginny's room, Hermione's favorite room of the entire house...once upon a time.

"So..." echoed Hermione, looking out the icy window, secretly envisioning Draco's face out over the horizon.

"How did your parents react? I was surprised they even let you come back here. So soon, that is."

Ginny watched the raven haired girl look away from the window and over toward her. Her gaze was unsettling.

"Well I spent a few days just being with them. I explained how everything went down and nothing completely horrid happened. They didn't want to send me back, but I was persuasive to say the least."

Oh yes, she had been persuasive. Hermione had used a wandless spell against them, forcing them to send her back. After her kidnaping, the Dark Lord had placed some very special, one could say, _terms _on her charms and witching abilities so everything went undetected to the Ministry. Once she went back to Hogwarts, the wards would eventually weaken and fade thus leaving her to be just like everyone else. Until then, she was sort of free to use her abilities how she saw fit.

Persuading her parents was just one of the things she had done.

"So they just let you come here instead?," asked Ginny uneasily. "That seems really weird."

"Not really. I mean my parents aren't like yours. They don't really know too much about the Dark Lord and what he can do. They didn't really question me and just were happy to have me back. I was happy to be back, but personally I can't wait to get back to Hogwarts. I've missed everyone, you know."

Ginny nodded with a timid smile on her face. This was not the friend she knew. _Where is the Hermione who jokes with me and laughs with me and—you are such a bitch, Ginny! The girl was taken from everyone and here you are trying to wonder why she isn't joking around. Oh Merlin, how could I be so inconsiderate?! Of course she is going to be a little off._

"Well you've missed out on a lot. Have you spoken with Professor Dumbledore on how you're going to approach everything? School wise, I mean."

"No," replied Hermione nonchalantly, twisting her dark hair with her finger, "Not yet. I think he's going to be discussing that with me tonight. I hope I'm not too far behind. It would suck to have to be in sixth year when everyone is a seventh year."

"I'm a sixth year."

"And a year younger, Ginny. You know what I mean."

"I know," said Ginny with a broader smile, the mood in the room lightening a bit. This–the cute banter between friends was what she missed. For a year she had been without Hermione. It was not as though they were the best of friends, Harry and Ron often trumped her in Hermione's eyes, but they had been friends. After spending all the time without her, it made her realize how important Hermione really was to her.

"So then, I guess you'll be heading back with us?" asked Ginny hopefully.

"I s'pose. It should be good once I get back. How bad are the rumors?"

"Not too bad. Well...everyone knows who took you, but nobody knows much more. It was all hype in the media for a long while, but it seemingly died after about eight or nine months. Then when you were found, Harry and I were pulled directly out of school. It...we–didn't really have time to talk to anyone. Plus, it was only a few days before everyone was to leave for winter holiday so...I'm not too sure who knows just yet about you."

Ginny looked down and away, the thoughts of when they found out about Hermione coming back to her...

"_Seamus can you pass the pumpkin juice?" asked Ginny, stifling a yawn into her own cloaked shoulder. Seamus lifted up the jug and moved it across the table, handing the red-haired beauty the juice without so much as a glance. Seamus was not too much of a morning person._

"_Did you finish your parchment for charms, Harry?" asked Dean, a hearty spoonful of morning oatmeal in his mouth._

"_Yeah," replied Harry dully, "Though I'm pretty sure I got the final question wrong. It's bloody hard this year."_

"_You're telling me," quipped Neville, shoveling his own spoonful of oatmeal into his watering mouth._

_Harry just nodded. The whole ordeal had been harder on him than anyone else taking into consideration who had been taken. His two best friends, two-thirds of his soul - gone. Just...gone. _

_From the December before to the current winter, he'd been nothing save for a walking corpse. Nothing, nobody, seemed to be able to fill the void left in him with the disappearance of his two best mates. Ginny had tried to talk with him and get him to open up, but he would have none of it. It hurt Ginny to know the will to fight had left him. The will to do anything had left him._

_He just didn't care._

"_Mr. Potter! Miss Weasley!"_

_Harry and Ginny both jerked up in alarm in hearing Professor McGonagall call their names with such a frantic urgency. Something was wrong. She knew something was wrong, but not what exactly._

Dear God, please don't tell me more bad news. Please don't tell me I've lost somebody else. I can't take that...I can't...

"_Harry–"_

Oh Merlin...she used his first name. This is bad. Very bad.

"_Harry, Ginny, you both must come with me. _Now_."_

_Ginny exchanged a quick glance with Harry before they jumped up and followed the anxious woman out of the Great Hall, every eye in the room latched onto them. Once they were beyond the doors, a solid distance separating their voices and the nosy, prying ears of the Great Hall, Ginny and Harry began questioning immediately._

"_Professor, what's going on?"_

"_Something must be wrong. Is somebody hurt?"_

"_Is it mum?"_

"_Is it Mr. Weasley?"_

"_What is going on?!"_

"_SILENCE!"_

_The haggard professor turned around, bursts of air puffing between her lips, her eyes blazing with the most uneasy expression. Finally words left her mouth which would forever stay with Ginny and Harry...later haunting them both._

"_Hermione was found. She is alive."_

_Ginny, whose hand was clasped in Harry's, his attempt to pull her out quicker in haste of what was occurring, began crushing her slim fingers. Ginny felt the pain, but was in such a state of shock that her voice would not permit her to scream..._

All those involved with the Order were given so much hope with the return of Hermione. First things first, they had called her parents who were more than relieved and happy when they saw their daughter. Her father had completely been firm in saying how she would never return to the "blasted bloody school" and she would never go back to the "God-forsaken wizarding world".

Getting Hermione back was almost as though they had regained the upper hand, as though hope dwindled all other things which could have initially brought them down. She was safe and that was what was important.

"So," began Ginny, breaking away from her thoughts, "When are you going to let me change your hair back? I mean you must have gone bloody bonkers when they forced you to change your hair color."

Hermione smirked, unbeknownst to Ginny that it was a Malfoy trait she had picked up on, then; "Actually, I kind of like it. I think the black fits well with my light skin."

Hermione looked away thinking about Draco, the one who had said those words to her convincing her to darken her locks. Ginny, on the other hand, thought nothing about it was amusing. Hermione with black hair was about as appealing as Harry with red. She was still beautiful, yes, but it just did not work. Ginny didn't like it. Not one little bit.

The two girls continued to chat–more accurately described as Ginny asking questions and Hermione giving her short and direct answers, some even one worded–before they went downstairs to sit with various order members who were there to monitor her. While the Weasley Family was happy to have her back, safe and relatively unharmed, they were still missing their youngest son and brother. Hermione held the answers of possibly getting him back, all unaware of his demise over one year ago.

His body had already long since been thrown into a heap of cold dirt; no proper headstone put up. The youngest Weasley boy had nothing to identify him even if somebody were to have been looking for him.

Poor lad.

Hermione did not feel the need to tell _this_ _family_, and yes her thoughts concerning them were detached, about their son. Truth of the matter was she didn't care. Her thoughts on him had changed in the past months when Draco had made some very notable remarks about her former friend. The redheaded boy had always been short and aggressively temperamental with her, on more than one occasion each day. He had never expressed any interest in her other than to gain her help with homework, something he should have been doing all on his own to begin with; if he paid attention in class then it would not have been an issue. On top of it, probably the most critical indication to their lack of friendship, was how they began their friendship in the first place. It had, in fact, been Harry–not Ron–who had run to the bathroom to save her from the troll, let in by the then-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, with him trailing along behind. Had it not been for Harry being there, the ginger-haired boy most likely would have gone to his four-poster bed covered in quidditch posters on a full stomach, no worries on the brain. It was as though the boy had been dragged and forced rather than venturing to save her willingly.

So no, Hermione did not care if his family received any closure. Foolish boy got himself killed in her eyes.

"Hermione is there anything I can get you?" asked Mrs. Weasley, more cheerful than she had been in a year. Hermione had been like a second daughter to her so having her back was just wonderful.

"No thank you," declined Hermione sweetly.

"Um, care to join me for a game of wizard chess?" asked Harry, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Harry you should know by now, after all of these years, I simply am not up to par with such a game. I assume the moment you asked was a mixture of temporary insanity and the desperate need for a partner."

Harry snorted; his laughter was bright and rich. _Now, there is the girl I've been missing. There is the funny, witty girl we all love so much_.

"I guess it was the whole desperate thing," he answered coyly.

After a forced giggle, something only she knew to be forced, she suggested, "I think you should play with someone like Ginny considering I just suck at the game."

Truth be told, she was actually a superb chess player. She simply chose not to participate in it. Well, at least until Draco opened her eyes to see there was such a thing as a 'worthy opponent'; he was the opponent.

"Never let it be said I did not ask you to play."

"I won't Harry. I surely will never say it."

While Harry set up the chessboard with the help of a quiet Ginny, Hermione strode over to the window, again her thoughts were drifted to Draco. All she wanted to do was go home.

* * *

In the far off distance at the cold Malfoy Manor, Draco was feeling just as much separation anxiety as Hermione. He had been with her, seen her, and listened to her voice for an entire year and suddenly the remarkable girl was just gone. He was disgusted by the thought of her being with the ruddy Weasley family, being comforted by Golden Boy Potter, and the other idiots she had been associating with before she had crossed over. For Draco, this felt like sharing her. If there was one thing he despised, it was sharing what was his. 

He did not want to share Hermione.

Despite his conscious effort to just seduce Hermione, her incredible mind and delectable wit ended up captivating him. Draco had found Hermione to be more than just a challenge, more than just something he was set out to conquer—he'd fallen for her. He was not exactly sure when it had happened, but sure enough she had become his only waking thought. Often times it had gotten him at trouble seeing as how he had to balance his life as a death eater with his life at Hogwarts. Professors caught him staring off into space during various times through the course of the class each day. Sitting in the common room with an open book did nothing to sort out his thoughts for all of them would revert to the dark-haired beauty back at his master's lair.

Draco Malfoy was positively smitten.

People had recognized the changes in him though nobody could quite figure out who exactly was the cause for such a besotted turn in the dark Slytherin. Everyone knew of his reputation to dally with the likes of several pureblooded girls, all houses apart from Gryffindor acceptable, but nobody could ever hang on to Draco for very long. He was kind of a 'get in, get out' type of guy. As long as he got what he wanted once, he never found the urge to go back. So who was it to have kept him from his thoughts and dreams and nearly every other thing which made Draco who he was? Nobody ever would have guessed the object of his affections was Hermione 'muggle-born' Granger.

Just being so far away from her without so much as the knowledge of where she was _precisely_ irked him. _Damn it! I just wish I could send her a blasted owl. At least let me have a way of speaking with her. If I don't hear from her soon then I'm bound to go mad_—

TAP!

Draco looked up to see a tawny owl scratching at his frosted window, urging him to allow him entry. Draco walked over, letting the owl in and quickly taking the parchment the animal had delivered. Immediately he felt his pulse quicken at the sight of the small, tidy scripture on the letter. After opening it without delay, his eyes scanned the dark ink with ferocity—

_Draco—_

_Words cannot express how much I miss you right now. Not having you with me each day is practically murder, but we must do this. When it comes down to it, I must prove myself to everyone. Most especially, I want to prove myself to you._

_Everything about this ruddy place is vile, but I will pull through. I have a feeling Dumbledore will be sending me back soon to Hogwarts, along with everyone else, in hopes of me getting back to 'normal'. I can't wait for the day since I'll finally be back to you. It's killing me to not have you, I just can't convey it enough._

_Only about a week or so and we'll be together. I promise you I'm alright and safe; you have nothing to worry about._

—_Hermione_

Draco let out a breath he wasn't aware he was even holding. Something about knowing she was unharmed and thinking of him just allowed him to breathe easier, or in his case entirely.

"Draco, darling?"

He jerked his head at the sound of his mother's voice, the faint calling forcing him to put the letter away and tend to his mother. Family first. It was practically the Malfoy motto since the beginning of time.

Folding the letter neatly, he placed it beneath his pillow before he ventured downstairs to speak with his mother.

"Yes, mum?" he asked, meeting her in the spacious second living room, the sort of family area of the manor, one could say. That is, if they were much of a family to begin with. Draco's relationship with his mother was on very good terms, but his father was more of an acquaintance, a mentor even; not much of a father. Lucius was a feared man and it was the same type of fear he had instilled in Draco when he was a young child. Later, the fear lessened, but he had never had a pleasant connection with Voldemort's right hand man.

"Draco, dear, you've been up in that insufferably cramped room all day as though you're in mourning. Would you mind explaining to me what your problem is exactly?"

Most people would have laughed at her based on her choice words. 'Insufferably cramped' was not the best words to describe the size of Draco's truly and remarkably spacious living quarters. Again, quarters—as in entire floor. Yes, Narcissa definitely was the perfect name given to her at birth. Maybe even a premonition told everyone how pompous she would be one day. Who knows?

"I'm fine, mum. Just...tired is all–"

"Don't lie to me. I know you're going mad because of the...the mud–Granger girl."

Draco twisted in his seat, her near use of the word 'mudblood' vexing him. It was one thing to use the word, he didn't care, but never about her. Okay things had changed and never did he want to hear somebody badmouthing, putting down in any way, _his _girl. Never.

"Mum, I'm fine. I just...miss her."

"Draco..."

He did not like the motherly tone in her voice nor did he like the way she was facing him, actually giving him her full attention. He had a feeling she was about to say something he did not want to hear.

"Guard your heart."

"What?"

"Guard your heart, Draco," she whispered. Draco gulped thickly as she continued, "I've never seen you like this before and I certainly did not expect you to feel this way over this one girl. Nevertheless, you've appeared to have given her a part of you. You still have your heart to give and I want you to watch out for it. Do not let her break it."

"Mum...it was just a task and it turned into something...I don't know; more. I didn't plan on this," he replied honestly.

"I know you didn't and it scares me even more to know you didn't. Draco she is a task. She was not someone you were suppose to fall in love with."

"Did I say I was in love?" he asked, looking away from her gaze.

"No. Your eyes did."

Draco looked up, shocked and flustered; he knew she was right.

* * *

"Please come sit down, Hermione." 

She looked behind her to see every eye in the room zoning in on her. Hermione's defensive nature caused her to rise slowly, scanning the room for whatever possibly could have made them focus on her. It hit her swiftly given her common sense was much higher than most.

"Oh, hello Professor Dumbledore. I did not hear you come into the room."

"Quite alright, Hermione. It is lovely to see you again. I trust everything went well with your parents or are they still regarding our world with a hostile attitude?" he asked kindly.

"Their outlooks changed once I spoke with them. They just have to understand I am my own person and I made them see it."

Dumbledore looked back to Hermione, but without the usual, almost expected twinkle in his eye. _They just need to understand I am my own person and I made them see it._ Those words sounded foreign coming from Hermione's pink lips, uttered through her soft voice. The words were just not like her. If she had said, 'I think my parents just needed to understand I am my own person and I'm trying to help them see it,' then it would have seemed very much like the Hermione everyone knew; always wanting to help others better understand things. However, key words just threw him off. Hermione said 'need to understand' which was leading Dumbledore to believe that the Granger family had yet to come to terms with it exactly. _Why is she here? Why would they let her go if they were still unsure about our world?_ Dumbledore did not like it. Then there was the latter part of her statement—'I made them see it'. Hermione had practically spoke with a sing-song attitude, an unfamiliar assertiveness for her. _Hermione would no sooner make them see such a thing than walk on water with weights on her back. So why say it? Why?_

"So Professor Dumbledore, how can I help you?" she asked amiably.

"I am here to speak with you about how we're going to handle your special situation."

"Sir, I really just want to get back to my life. Here is nice and I love the Weasley family, but I need to get back to my normal life. Everything is normal at Hogwarts and it's where I belong. I'd rather be there than anywhere else so I don't...I don't see why I can't go back."

"Hermione I want nothing more than for you to go back, but you were gone for over a year. A lot has changed since your departure."

"I know that. I know everything is different and I know there are rumors and I...I just know everything you're telling me. I don't care though. I'd rather be there and fighting off the rumors than sulking about what happened. I'm not traumatized. I can go back."

"Don't you think you owe yourself some more time to recover?"

"I owe myself more than I owe anyone else, yes. What I want is to go back to Hogwarts, to my home. It's all I want. Please let me go back."

Various Order members sighed at her plea, unsure of how to handle the young girl. Her chocolate eyes were nearly blinding with misery and desolation like it almost seemed to break her heart to think about not getting back to her school. Ginny and Harry exchanged glances before reverting their gazes back to the sable-haired girl.

"Please, can't you try to understand?" she implored despondently.

"It's not that we don't understand, dear, but we just want what is best for you. Time will heal this and–"

"And Hogwarts will heal this," she interjected fiercely. "I'm smart. I'm really smart and when I'm learning and pushing myself to try and be the best then I can do anything. I'm capable of so much and I don't want to be left behind because of this happening. All I want is the chance to go and learn and graduate with my friends. This...it's drained so much out of me..."

Small crystal tears started to fall down her cheek, instantly chilling everyone in the room. To see the once seemingly brave girl breakdown like she was nearly toppled them over. Hermione sobbed, albeit inwardly _smiling_, alerting everyone how much she needed Hogwarts. Not just wanted to go; needed.

"Albus, the poor girl's heart is breaking and..." Mrs. Weasley broke away, her own tears filling her eyes and wracking her body.

"I know. It goes against my better judgement, but I think I will allow it."

"You will?" she asked, looking up to meet his eyes, tears brimming the outer rim of her eyelashes.

"On the condition that you'll speak with me regularly and allow me to help monitor your progress in hopes of helping you get back to normal."

"Most definitely. There won't be any secrets with me," she said melodiously.

Nearly everyone beamed wholeheartedly at Hermione's comment except for Professor Dumbledore. With a small grin, he stared at the now seventeen year old girl and never thought she'd looked more _innocent_.

* * *

A/N: So what did you guys think? This chapter was so frustrating because I could not use the word 'magic'! Lol, curse you StormMasters for making this so hard on me!! Hehe, but I asked for it so I guess I can't complain. I just want to mention to everyone how I am known for surprising my readers. I know a lot of you are doubting me with this, the plot with Hermione evil and all, but just wait - things will get much crazier and more fun as time progresses.

Next chapter - Back at Hogwarts...hehehe!!

Oh and I'm dealing with midterms all week so please be patient with me on the updates. I really can't write as often as I'd like when I need to study so much. I'm sorry for this, but again, your patience will be welcomed by me. :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	3. Just Like a Domino

A/N: This chapter does contain a sort of sexual scene. I'm known for writing the scenes tastefully and limiting them as to accentuate their feelings rather than the actual act. You've been warned.

**

* * *

**

**Just Like a Domino - Chapter 3**

"Hermione are you alright?"

The black-haired girl turned around to look at Harry and Ginny staring at her with unease and worry in their eyes. Hermione simply rolled her own brown eyes before she looked back to the window, the snowy landscape of the countryside practically flying past as the Hogwarts Express moved forward.

"I wish everyone would stop asking me that. I'm fine."

"Sorry," apologized Harry sheepishly.

"It's just we're–"

"Worried about me, I know," interjected Hermione, sighing heavily. "You know, I'm a _fairly_ independent person. At one point I _kind of, sort of, maybe_ did things on my _own_, no? Why don't you let me get back to that and stop asking me every five minutes how I am? I'm not glass; I won't break."

With those words, silence fell over them again. It seemed to be a recurring event as of late. Each time they would bring something about her being back, she would usually give them a short answer before succumbing to being tacit again. Harry and Ginny knew it was hard on her, being back and all, which was why they never pushed her to speak. They knew in due time she would come to them.

"Anyhow, I've got rounds right now so I guess I'll see you two later."

"Bye Ginny," muttered Harry, his gaze still on Hermione.

Ginny looked over to Hermione, but after waiting several moments for a response and receiving none, the redhead merely walked out of the compartment, shutting the door softly behind her.

The sixth year girl turned away to bump directly into a tall blond figure.

"I'm sorry—Oh...it's just you, Malfoy," she spat harshly.

"Glad to have disappointed you. Who were you expecting? The squib Snevilles?" Draco smirked at her angry reaction.

"_Neville_ is not a squib!"

"Right," he replied sarcastically.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Malfoy?" she asked mockingly. Draco just smirked as she pushed him aside, not even bothering to wait for an answer from him.

It was then when he looked through the glass window of the compartment and his silvery eyes locked with Hermione's. For the briefest of moments, they both let their guard down and spoke silently to each other. He had longed for her, as she had him, and finally they were within each others' reach. However, one person stood in the way. A green-eyed golden boy to be exact.

Draco wanted so much to walk through the compartment and pull her fiercely into his arms, but he had to remember to be smart about the situation. She was on a mission. It vexed him that he was out of the loop in regards to knowing. Hermione's particular assignment was top secret. He knew Hermione was forbidden to tell him, but that didn't change how much he wanted to know.

He sensed there was somebody watching him, other than his girl, so he moved along without bothering to look over his shoulder. Within a few moments, an arm linked around his shoulder.

"How you been, mate?" asked Blaise Zabini, one of Draco's friends who was actually capable of forming coherent sentences. When Draco really thought about it, Blaise was probably the only true friend he had. Well, aside from Hermione.

"Alright, I s'pose. How about you?" Draco asked in a bored manner.

"Winter break was bloody amazing. Honestly, some of these girls...just throwing themselves at me."

"Right.

Blaise normally joked with Draco in a way which demeaned others, something which probably would have caused their mothers to faint if they heard the vile, nasty words coming out of their sons' mouths. However, Draco was not participating this time and it worried Blaise.

"What's your problem, Draco?" asked Blaise.

"I uh...I s-sort of..."

"Draco Malfoy is stuttering? Now I'm really scared." Draco glared at him for a moment before he pulled his friend into an empty compartment. Well, it wasn't really empty, but after pushing out two second year Ravenclaws it was.

"Tell me what in the bloody hell is going on," hissed Blaise.

"Look," began Draco, inwardly terrified of his friend's reaction. So terrified, he decided to be a Slytherin and not tell him everything, yet at least; "I sort of, met someone. I met her a while ago and over the course of...we've kind of gotten close."

"Oh, that's all? Damn it, you had me really worried for a second," muttered Blaise relieved.

"Sorry, mate. It's just, I can't get this girl out of my mind and I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't."

"Come on, Draco. Even your dad eventually came around to your mother. All the greats eventually feel something for one particular girl. I just didn't think it would be this soon. I mean, we're in our prime right now so we should be getting with as many lasses possible, no?"

Draco looked down and away from his friend's grin alerting the black-haired boy just how big the situation was.

"Draco, I was kidding," he uttered, mystified for a moment. Then it hit him; "You really like this girl."

"I uh..."

"Who is it?" he asked, somewhat scared for the answer.

"Um...I can't really say."

It was with Draco's short statement that Blaise felt the tingling, foreboding sensation of something being terribly wrong. It had to be. Since when was Draco Malfoy afraid to spill about a girl?

_When the girl of question is the one girl he is not suppose to be with._

"It's Granger. You fell for the enemy."

"She isn't the enemy!" barked Draco defensively; more so on behalf of Hermione than himself.

"Are you crazy?! She is still the enemy. At the end of the day, I don't trust her and–"

"If the Dark Lord trusts her then so should you!" screamed Draco, his frustration practically burning through his skin.

Blaise rolled his eyes as he said, "Oh please. The Dark Lord no more trusts her than he does Professor Dumbledore. Actually, I think he trusts Dumbledore more than the mudblood given how we all know what to expect from him. We have no idea what this mudblood is capable of."

Draco's normally pale skin was shifting into a crimson glow. Blaise had the strong impression that if it were possible, hot steam would have been springing out of his ears. Draco looked made enough to kill.

"Do not look down on her–"

Before Draco could finish, Blaise cut him off, "SHUT UP! Merlin, Draco what the hell were you _thinking_?! Were you thinking?" After shouting the questions, Blaise began to pace around the room in an attempt to remain calm. Thankfully, there were no other people in the compartment for the both on the verge of hurling curses at one another.

"I don't trust that girl. I know you have spent more time with her considering she was your_ task_, but I don't give a shit; she cannot be trusted."

"That's what I thought and grew up thinking," said Draco slowly, as to articulate everything he was trying to say very well, "but I was wrong. I've learned so much from her and she...she is amazing Blaise. I mean, put aside what she use to be, you'll see she is completely capable. The suggestions she has made regarding Potter and the ruddy Order are superb. Even my father thinks so and if she can convince a man like my father of something, _anything_, then you better believe she is a changed person. She isn't going down Potter's path anymore. She is fighting for the right side."

"Does anyone know about your little endeavor into the loving world of Granger? Please, let me know. Does your family know? More importantly, does the Dark Lord know?"

"My mum figured it out, but aside from her, no. I think you're the only one," whispered Draco, nearly inaudibly.

Blaise sighed. "You were assigned a task and–"

"AND I COMPLETED IT!" shouted Draco.

"Yes, you did. No qualms from me there. However, it was only suppose to be a seduction. You weren't suppose to fall in love with her."

"What does it matter? Blaise, if she is on our side then–"

"We still don't know she is on our side for sure. That, mate, is the problem."

0000000

Hermione walked into the main entrance of Hogwarts to be greeted by dozens and dozens of stares, most of which she was unfamiliar with. At one time she knew them, but not anymore. He had taught her that only the important people in her life were the ones to remember and none of the people staring at her were them.

None.

"Don't worry about them. Let's just get into the Great Hall and then we'll be off at the Gryffindor table, away from prying eyes," said Harry, slinging an arm around her shoulder. She realized she must have been looking upset for his reaction to occur, but it was alright. His reaction was taken in stride and appreciated for it meant Harry was buying into her facade even more.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Hermione, Harry, and Ginny walked into the Great Hall where Hermione's eyes drifted to a certain table. She met his eyes. She met those beautiful, hungry, icy eyes which she loved so much. He was staring at her with a fire and she knew only one way to put it out.

It was not the time. It was not the time nor the place, but it did not change how much she wanted to run into his arms, throw herself into him, and snog him senseless. Oh bloody hell, she wouldn't care if he threw her on the Slytherin table and shagged her in front of everyone. She could not give into her desires. She had a mission and she was going to do it.

"Hermione?"

The daydream she was having, consisting of Draco Malfoy on top of her in the Great Hall, was pushed out of the way quickly and revealed the concerned eyes of her former best friend.

"Sorry. I just...got lost in my mind for a moment." It wasn't a total lie even though she really did not give a sickle for lying. Nonetheless, not lying to him made this easier. Made her, in an odd way, feel_ sneakier_.

"I was just asking if you'd like some pumpkin juice. Would you?" Harry's eyes were almost pleading with her, something she did not quite understand. It was a mundane thing—he was offering pumpkin juice. That was it. Nothing more so why did he look like a wounded child asking for a healing spell?

_He wants everything to go back to normal. He wants his old friends, his old life, and everything else back in seventh year.** Idiot.** Doesn't he realize that people change?! Honestly. _

Hermione accepted his offer allowing him to feel what he wanted—like himself again. Just him and his friends enjoying dinner in the Great Hall.

Oh, how she was about to be sneaky and ruin all of it for him. Well, in a way.

_What he doesn't know, won't hurt him._

Her eyes scanned the room again and sure enough, he was staring right back at her, just as she had planned on. Giving him the faintest of nods, he smirked at her before she rose to her feet.

"Hermione?"

"I'm just going to the lavatory Harry. I...I need to be alone for a moment. I need a moment away from all these people staring at me. Okay?"

Harry nodded sweetly. She gave him a warm smile back only it was colder than he thought—_much _colder.

_I've got him wrapped around my fingers so tight, it's nearly pathetic._

Hermione walked beyond the Gryffindor table to the door with her head down which forced her tumult of heavy hair to shield her face. In the obscurity of her brown locks, nobody could catch the smile tugging the corners of her lips.

Harry went back to his dinner completely unaware that if he were to turn around...a certain Slytherin would be missing from his house's table.

With a slight swagger in her step, Hermione made her way down the empty and dark hall toward the Gryffindor tower. There was a soft breeze in the hall from the open window at the end so her body was shaking from the slight cold. Not to mention it was a drafty castle in the first place even with all the charms and spells supposedly keeping it warm—

Suddenly a hand flew over her mouth and dragged her into a nearby classroom without so much as a second to simply breathe. When the hand was removed from her face, again she had no time to breathe as lips smothered her mouth, forcing her to back into a wall. Her assailant did not need to identify himself as she ran her hands through silky tresses. Draco was finally kissing her after what felt like, to her—to them both, years.

"Merlin, I've missed you," he panted in between kisses; "I've missed you so bloody much."

"I've missed you, Draco."

He plunged his hands into her thick curls and brought her lips back to his, ceasing all talking between them. His free hand wrapped around her waist and inched up the hem of her shirt, brushing against the newly exposed skin of her back. Immediately, instinctively, her body shivered into his as a moan went directly from her mouth and was lost in his.

When his mouth drifted away from hers to drag his kisses down her neck, she whispered, "I've missed this. I've...missed the way...you make me feel..."

"How is that?" he asked before he plummeted back down to the flesh of her neck.

"ALIVE!" she screamed as his hand, which had for the most part been rubbing her back in sensuous circles, moved beyond the fastenings of her Hogwarts skirt. Hermione was completely lustful for his touch and famished for his presence.

_Oh, those hands. Hands of a bloody artist..._

Hermione's knees bucked from the downward movement of his hand and she would have fallen to the floor had he not been holding her so tight. If she thought she was needy, she could not even imagine what he felt. He was not simply craving her touch, but damn well aching for it—quite literally in a piece of his anatomy which was much lower on his lean frame and currently protruding out.

"I have been wanting to do this since I saw you on the train. Fuck...you looked so beautiful with your hair pulled back like that—"

"I could...have kept it up," she interjected through her panting. She felt a shake against her neck before his lips, which had resumed kissing, were pulled back.

"No. I much prefer your hair down...wild and untamed. At least when I'm ravishing you."

Hermione's face broke into a smile prior to forming a perfect 'O' with her lips. His fingers had just..._well, yeah_.

"Merlin...you're so fucking beautiful, Hermione."

Hermione's lips contorted into a disappointed sneer when Draco pulled his fingers away from her. Draco smirked at her moan of distaste.

"My, my, aren't you a bit snippy?"

"Draco, please..." she gasped as she leaned her head back against the wall.

Her discomfort did not last. Draco lifted her left leg up and gently tugged off her knickers. A smile of delight crept across his features when he looked at the lacy panties in his hand.

"I um...I have never seen this one before."

Hermione giggled.

"Maybe that's because I just go them. Nobody has seem them before."

"And I'm afraid, my dear," he murmured, "Nobody ever will."

She saw him pocket the green knickers before he drove his lips back into her, tasting every essence of her.

0000000

"You were gone so long. I was starting to get worried," managed Harry, more concern filtering through his voice.

"I was...well, I was upset. I just hate facing everyone like that. I feel them burning my face with their intrusive eyes and I'm sick of it, you know?" she spat harshly. Harry bought into her act thinking the harshness was pointed at them.

It was all an act.

One big act.

"I know, but it's going to get better. In a few days time, nobody will even remember a time when you weren't here. You've always been here Hermione and everyone loves you and we're glad you're safe and–"

"And you're babbling, but I get it. Thanks, Harry."

For the first time since they arrived at Hogwarts, Harry truly smiled at her. Hermione's plan was working oh so well—

"Ow!"

Harry was on the ground. He had bumped into a large figure, one which Hermione heard cackle slightly at the Gryffindor boy's discomfort. Her face scanned to see who had knocked down the guy she was attempting to play, but stopped her irritated inward screams when she realized it was a blond Slytherin.

"Oi, Potter—why don't you watch where you and your mudblood girlfriend are going? You may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but here you're just a student like everyone else. We_ all _have to walk down this hall."

Someone who was looking for it, like Draco, would have just barely been able to catch the small smile flicker across Hermione's lips before she bent down to help Harry up to his feet. He brushed off his shirt as he stared daggers into the Slytherin.

"I'm surprised your fat head can even fit in this hallway," quipped Harry.

"You really got me, Potter," replied Draco as he pushed past them. Hermione felt his fingers brush against her arm as he did so.

"The nerve of him," sighed Hermione, returning her attention (_somewhat_) to the dark-haired boy.

"Forget about him. Him, I can deal with. It's you who I am worried about," he said seriously.

"Trust me, Harry—everything is going fine. Perfectly fine."

And it was going perfectly fine.

_Perfect._

0000000

Draco's detour was only made so he could run into Hermione. Making his way back to his own common room in the Slytherin dungeons, he managed to bump into someone he was not expecting and for reasons he never planned on.

"Mr. Malfoy."

The cold, tetchy voice belonged to none other than Minerva McGonagall, the Gryffindor head of house.

"Yes, Professor," he drawled, turning around to face her.

Without warning, she held up a pair of green knickers. To be more precise, Hermione's green knickers.

_Run..._

_Scream..._

_Blush..._

_Deny..._

Nearly every other boy, if not all of them save for him, would have done at least one of those things, maybe even all of them. Draco, on the other hand, simply smirked and had the audacity to look pleased with himself.

"When you exited the Great Hall, I saw this...fall out of your pocket."

She handed over the knickers which he crumpled and slid back into his pocket with the smirk still plastered on his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you need me to go over the code of conduct regarding how young wizards and witches are suppose to be acting while they are staying here?" she asked in a narked tone.

Draco looked down to stifle the urge to laugh. Once he felt capable of proceeding without snickering, he looked back up at the stern woman.

"I know the code very well, professor," he said flatly.

"Well," she said, still unnerved by the situation, "Unless they are yours, I do hope never to see them again. If I do, I will be informing Professor Snape about the incident and he will be talking with you as well as the female Slytherin population, is that understood?"

_She thinks they belong to a Slytherin. Perfect._

"Understood."

The peeved woman moved past the young wizard in the opposite direction. Draco watched her leave as he thought...

_Another one down._

_Just like a domino...eventually they all fall down._

* * *

A/N: What did you guys think? Let me know! I'm always eager to hear from everyone. Know that _the scene_ between Draco and Hermione was something I wanted to be tastefully done. I don't like writing smut so I choose to keep it limited - I just happen to feel their relationship needs it.

Thank you to everyone who wished me luck on my midterms! I still have two left - one written, one in class - so again, bear with me. Thank you all for waiting patiently :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it!

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	4. Kindle Me

A/N: I just started reading this story called "Malfoy Has Returned" by purplejuniormints. It's an interesting take so I definitely suggest a read!

Alright, so as always, Happy reading!

* * *

**Kindle Me - Chapter 4**

The first morning of classes arrived. For Hermione, it would be her first time in class for over a year. Dumbledore, though completely berated by most of the Ministry for allowing such a thing, approved Hermione to begin her term with the other seventh years the girl grew up with. The Headmaster argued Hermione's abilities and intelligence mirrored someone far beyond a seventh year at Hogwarts and she suitably belonged there without the latter half of her sixth as well as the first half of her seventh.

Hermione, who had the fleeting suspicion Dumbledore would do such a thing, found herself pleased to be starting in the year. Aside from how much power she would have as a seventh year, Draco would be in a few of her classes (Charms and Arithmancy). Seeing him always managed to melt her heart.

The light illuminating Professor McGonagall's class was intense and welcomed by the early rising Hermione. Like Draco, she was very much a morning person, keen on starting the day right. In her eyes, nights were for sleeping while the day was for action.

"Good morning Miss Granger," said the transfiguration teacher with a kind smile.

Hermione smiled, uttering, "It is, isn't it? Every morning so far has been wonderful."

All outward appearances, she was still Hermione Granger—vivacious, independent Hermione Granger. _If only they knew, _she thought vehemently_, Oh, if only the idiots knew._

"Has Professor Dumbledore told you on how you're to address the class?" asked the teacher with a parent-like concern. Hermione had no doubt she felt like a parent to the girl—She had been her favorite student for the past seven years, if not for her entire career of teaching.

"Yes," replied Hermione, a thoughtful tone in her voice, "and I understand how everything will pan out. Only, well, he said I would need a partner to help me get use to coming back. He never specified who it would be."

The normally stern woman, whose face usually held up a look of strong authority, softened and looked pensive.

"I think it might be best for you to partner up with the Head Boy."

"Blaise Zabini?" she asked, hoping to Merlin she had heard correctly.

The professor nodded, confirming what she thought she heard; "I think it would be very wise to partner you two up. Um...I think it's safe to say you would have been Head Girl yourself had last year...not—it doesn't matter. Anyways, the boy is constantly up at late hours anyway, patrolling the halls he claims—" though Hermione smirked inwardly at the woman's complete lack of understanding her students at all; Blaise was no more patrolling the halls than a broom was. He was, nearly every night, portkeying to the Dark Lord's manor. She had seen him on several occasions—"so I think it'll work out just fine."

"Um...I think it would be alright," replied Hermione, having the grace to sound aloof and unsure. Professor McGonagall's expectations were met.

The entire situation couldn't be more perfect even if she wanted it to be. Blaise Zabini, a guy on her side—the right side, was to 'tutor' her. Talk about an easy way of getting out of Hogwarts unnoticed.

Hermione did not drop her smile until she took in Harry's face which was contorted with a look of rage. Immediately she worked her best friend charm to ask, "what's wrong?"

"Zabini? Why would she pair you up with him instead of me?" Harry's eyes were cast downward as he spoke in a low drawl.

"He is the Head Boy. I can't even think of a more perfect person really," she muttered plainly. Harry's green eyes bore into the side of her face, sending chills up and down her spine. Hermione always hated feeling as though she was on a display pedestal and with Harry's gaze on her, she felt just that.

"Please stop looking at me like that, Harry."

"Hermione...I just don't want Zabini around you. He's just like bloody Malfoy—I know he's a death eater. You should not be around that, especially if you are alone."

The raven-haired girl sighed deeply. Something about Harry's tone put off Hermione.

"I don't want to...No—I_ can't _lose you again, Hermione. It will kill me. You need to understand just how serious your survival is to me. If Zabini or fucking Malfoy—"

"They're not going to do anything," she interjected sharply.

"You can't know that!" he bellowed.

"Mr. Potter!"

Hermione felt the flustered boy shaking next to her when McGonagall yelled out his name. Whether it was from anger or fear, she did not know. All she did know was how angry and scared he looked in the moment. It was so malice, so frightened, so malicious, so...not like Harry. She may not be his best friend anymore, but she still knew him to a degree. The look on his face was one she had never seen before. _Ever_.

She did not like it.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, is there is a problem?" asked the frazzled professor.

There was a long silence. Then—"We're fine. I apologize for the disruption."

It had been Hermione who spoke for Harry was still shaking next to her, creeping her out to a new degree she did not quite understand.

After getting back to work and feeling the tremors wracking Harry's worried body subside, Colin Creevy waltzed into the room to remind Hermione about her meeting after class with Dumbledore. With her morning of unfriendly bantering with Harry, she had forgotten all about it. Again, the timing was on her side seeing as she wanted so much to get away from the Golden Boy, even if it meant she had to spend her time with the fool of a headmaster.

Upon entering his office, her skin chilled. The girl was suddenly scared to be in the office of the one wizard she felt knew something was amiss. Her master did not doubt Dumbledore like she assumed he did—for all those years, back when she was fighting for the wrong side. She did not doubt him either.

"Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore cheerily, making Hermione jerk from his abrupt entrance. The tall wizard had come up from behind her and startled her senseless. As her heart began to pace down and her breathing slowed, she took a seat in the large, fluffy chair in front of his organized desk. To her right she could see Fawkes, his red and gold wings spanning far and wide. The phoenix gave her a hasty, almost sneering look before he turned and left the room, flying out the window into the brisk cold air. Dumbledore paused, seeming to reflect on the bird's departure. Once he seemed to be appeased, the headmaster faced the young girl, peering at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"Well, Miss Granger, how was your morning?" he asked brightly.

"I'm not quite sure. I didn't really have the opportunity to make it through my first class without Harry entering his overprotective mode, but aside from that—it was rather lovely. I'm glad to be back," she replied with a smile.

The man seemed to nod thoughtfully; "Yes, I can only imagine how difficult this is for Harry. He was not really the same without his best friend."

"Well, it wasn't as though I was the best friend he wanted back, right?"

_DAMN IT! MISTAKE...MISTAKE...MISTAKE...MISTAKE...MISTAKE—Okay, don't panic. Perhaps he didn't catch it._

"Pardon?" inquired Dumbledore, his grin fading into a leery smile. Hermione knew Dumbledore was much too smart to miss that.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just...a little off and I guess, well, kind of paranoid," she babbled in hopes of getting him to change the subject.

"You don't think Harry values your friendship?"

"Oh Merlin no! I just...you know—" she gulped and tried again—"boys tend to want other boys to confide in. Harry never really had the most intimate of relationships with me. It was more of a friendly thing and, uh, I just figure he would probably rather have that boy friendship back over his one with me, the kind where he can joke and whatnot. I'm being silly, of course," she laughed, again trying to get the subject changed.

Hermione met his piercing eyes and the first feeling of distrust flashed over his face, she had witnessed at least. Most people would not have caught it, but Hermione was desperately searching for it. She tightened up her composure and smiled the same innocent grin she'd flashed before. Hermione was unaware, but the man was expecting just that smile from her.

0000000

"Mind if I have a word?" asked Draco.

Hermione was awestruck. Unlike other times, when they were in the comforts of duo privacy, Hermione was very clearly seated in the Great Hall next to her many Gryffindor friends.

"Malfoy? What the hell do you want?" asked Hermione, her wide eyes questioning his silver ones.

"Prat, shove off!" barked Harry.

Draco smirked as he drawled a low voice, "I'd love to, but unfortunately for me...I actually have been asked by McGonagall to escort the mudblood."

Madness erupted—

"You arrogant prat!"

"How dare you!"

"Hermione doesn't need this!"

"Take it back—"

"What does she want to see me for?" asked Hermione. All the loud jeering ceased at the sound of her voice, exactly what Draco hoped for.

He flashed his trademark sneer before muttering, "While I'm privy to the information, the rest of the nosy Gryffindors are not. I suggest you ask the question again once we're outside."

Without anymore questions, Hermione stood up to leave the room with the Slytherin Harry hated most. Most of her friends were shocked though none of them pressed the issue with the girl. All of them felt she had been through enough and questioning was the last thing she needed.

Once Hermione and Draco were outside of the Great Hall and noted the coast was clear, he grabbed her small hand. Together, they raced through the empty hallway as fast as their legs would carry them until they finally reached the dungeons near the Slytherin common room, an unfamiliar territory to her. Draco crashed his lips onto hers as he pressed her against the wall, sliding his hands down her lean arms to plant themselves on her waist.

After a few minutes of frantic kisses, Draco pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose gently.

"I never get tired of that," he panted.

Hermione smiled before she asked, "What did you really call me out for? I highly doubt you would have risked coming to my table just to snog me, right?"

"Too smart for your own good," he smirked. Her pearly white grin flashed before he continued, "No, you're suppose to go have your_ tutoring _session with Blaise. I'm here to help you portkey to the manor."

"But Draco...why lie about McGonagall? What if she finds out?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I didn't lie. McGonagall passed me in the hall a few minutes ago and asked me if I had seen you. I let her know I'd take you to see Zabini if and when I found you. No worries, love," he replied, taking the opportunity to reciprocate the intimate kiss upon her nose.

"Um...alright," she sighed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder.

"What's wrong, love?" Draco asked with a worrisome tone.

"Nothing. I'm just...I've got some things on my mind and I'm...uh—kind of um...Bullocks, I sound ridiculous," she finished with a forced laugh.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, running his hand through her thick curls. He did not like the way her flushed face kept her gaze down. It was unlike her to look away from him.

"Why don't we just go? I'm sounding silly right now and...I just want to get out of here."

Her voice was pleading, begging almost, for him to just listen to her, something which bothered him immensely. This was the first time she had avoided answering a question of his and he didn't like it, not at all.

"Alright," he complied, not wanting to argue you the issue with her. He would coax it out of her later, but if he continued she was bound to shut him out entirely. The conversation was not dead, but halted.

0000000

Hermione sat in the middle of the room, her eyes focused on Draco's hand clutching her knee gently, a gesture suggesting he was holding her in place and nothing more. Many gazes were on her, but despite this, she did not look up. Normally she met their stares coldly, she had ever since her feelings about the side had changed, but tonight was different. Tonight she felt weak, too weak to handle Dumbledore's interrogation which meant without a doubt she'd be far too weak to handle any of the Death Eater's inquiries. Unlike Draco who stopped his questioning once she asked him to, they would not until they got the information they wanted. She just wanted to speak with her master and then leave to go back to Hogwarts.

Draco's hand squeezed her thigh gently when the Dark Lord came in.

"Did you find it?" he asked snappishly.

"Um, I was in the room, but I didn't see it. I suppose it's hidden."

The man's face contorted with annoyance and fury upon her finishing words. Then—"You suppose it's hidden? For someone who is suppose to be intelligent you really do lack common sense, you ruddy girl. Find it and find it soon!"

Hermione jerked into Draco, but he could not comfort her. He had to let her face this alone, even though he had no clue as to what they were referring to. _So she has to find something_, he thought distractedly, _then maybe I can help her. All she has to do is let me in and I can help her with this. Nothing more will have to follow if she just lets me help her._

"Yes Master. I will find it. It is only a matter of time before I find it." Her voice was timid, irresolute, and in the eyes of most of the people in the room—cowed.

The man with skin paler than Draco's and long bony limbs hanging off of him vanished into the darkness of the side hall, leaving everyone in the room to their own devices. Draco shot up from his spot on instinct and grabbed her hand, yanking her out of the room and into the one they'd shared for a year.

"What was that?" he asked once the door was shut.

"I don't know," she stated honestly as she walked to the bed. Flinging herself onto it, she crawled back to lay on the pillows, turning her body in the opposite direction of his. Draco sighed, running his hand through his baby-fine tresses, before he moved to the bed. Slowly, as not to startle her, he got on the duvet himself and slid his body around hers, spooning her.

"Hermione what's going on?"

No response.

"You have to tell me what's going on, love."

Again, no response.

Sighing again, he moved his lips to her neck—her weak spot—and marked a trail of kisses all the way around, smiling to himself when she began to writhe against him, tortured by his touch.

"Draco...stop," she pleaded, her voice sounding more like a moan in spite of herself.

"Love, just talk to me," he said again, still kissing the delicate skin of her neck. She was still struggling in an attempt to resist his touch, but he could tell the fight was leaving her body, giving into him.

"You're not being fair to me," she whispered, stifling a moan as his left hand made contact with the exposed skin of her abdomen. Rubbing light circles around her belly button, she twisted against him almost painfully. He was most definitely getting to her.

"I just want you to talk to me," the silver-haired boy said honestly.

Hermione exhaled a fresh breath of air before succumbing to his caresses, leaning back onto his shoulder, allowing him to breath hot air down her neck.

"Um...I'm scared." Draco had to strain to hear it, but as inaudible as the words were, he caught them.

"Of what, love? You know I won't let anything...happen to you." He realized much to late what he had said, something so incredibly endearing he had knocked himself for six. He did feel something for Hermione so profound it was staggering, but that did not mean he said it aloud often. Draco had never been the emotional type of guy to pour out his feelings, even if he meant them.

"No...um—damn it, why is this so hard to say?" she asked rhetorically. She got an answer nonetheless—

"Just say it," muttered Draco into the flesh of her shoulder, nipping at the freckled, exposed skin. His left hand was inching up her shirt, eliciting moans from Hermione.

"Draco, you're making me want to forget all about it..." she half-whined, obviously finding the idea of ignoring the problem much better than admitting to it. Draco moved his hand away, scowling himself mentally for doing such a thing when his hand had been so close to her—

"I'm sorry, love. Now tell me what's going on."

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"I'm scared of both sides," she muttered finally.

Draco could feel her body stiffen against him, alerting him just how much she meant what she had said. It struck him as odd. _Why would she be scared? This doesn't make sense._

As if she could read his mind, she said ruefully, "I am scared because unlike you and unlike Harry, not a single side trusts me."

"Of course we trust you! How could you think that?"

"It's the truth Draco! You may trust me, but you and I both know nobody else in our circle does. Blaise sure as hell does not trust me, I've gathered that much, and can you honestly say your parents trust me? Fuck, Draco you can't even tell them about our relationship. I highly doubt your father would be pleased to know your off shagging a mudblood when—"

"Don't act as though that is all I use you for! Damn it Hermione, you of all people know better than that," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Fine," she said in a narked voice, "I'll give you that, but still, you have yet to admit our relationship to your parents and they no more trust me than they trust the Ministry. On top of them, there are about two dozen other death eaters ready to pounce on me if I make the slightest mistake. Nobody trusts me Draco. Plus, I've got Dumbledore on my ass as well as various Order members and I cannot find a safe haven in either side. I'M SCARED DRACO!"

Draco could not recall when she started to tremble in his arms, but she was shaking madder than someone dying of hypothermia. Near-palpable waves of fear were radiating off her beautiful body, vexing him inside to know she was so afraid.

He pulled her around, forcing her to face him. With a tenderness she was unaware he had, even startling him at how gentle he could be with her, he cupped her face and kissed her forehead. He moved his lips down to her lips, leaving them a fraction apart so when he spoke, his lips brushed hers.

"You listen to me. When it comes down to it, we know where your loyalties lie. Blaise has many things on his mind lately so ignore him. My parents...worry about them later. You are absolutely perfect and if all else fails, remember how much I trust you. This should mean more to you than anything else considering I don't trust fucking anyone yet I do trust you!"

Hermione had to admit he was right. By and large, Draco was a man who did not trust easily and when his trust was lost, it could never be regained. Albeit it had taken her a year to earn his trust, she had gotten it. That had to stand for something, right?

"Well...what about Harry? And Dumbledore? I have the nagging suspicion he is on to me. I accidently said something stupid and he caught on," she told him.

"What did you say?" he probed.

"I kind of sounded bitter when I told him how I was probably not the best friend he wanted to see come back alive. I didn't mean to let it spill out, but it just did. I regretted it immediately and I covered myself pretty well, but you know Dumbledore...I'm pretty sure he caught on."

Draco sighed. "How much can the old fool know, right? All he has right now is suspicions which means he'll keep an eye on you. He was going to do that anyways so it's no big deal. Don't worry yourself over it so much, Hermione."

With his arms wrapped around her tightly from behind, he could feel her body relax against his. He was starting to get through to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he casually ran his fingers through her coiled locks.

"I guess. I'm still nervous about going back and facing everyone. I just know I'll feel everyone's eyes burning me the moment I step foot back in the Great Hall or anywhere for that matter. I'm so sick of everyone!" she cried with fury. Draco tightened his grip on her more.

"Look...just get through this task of yours and then we can leave. It'll be over for all of us, alright?"

She nodded against him, snuggling into his embrace. He placed another sensual kiss against her neck, breathing in her scent of honey.

"Why don't you tell me what the task is? Then I can help you," he suggested.

"You know I can't," she whispered, "I'd love to, but can't. I want to earn everyone's trust and if I tell you...I just can't. I'm sorry."

He could not deny it bothered him to still be in the dark, but he made no effort to push the topic further. His girl had a point, one he agreed with. _Bugger me..._

"S'alright, love."

"Besides, this task was designed for me. With you being you...there is just no way you could do it. While they are suspicious of me, at least some, it'll be easier for me to do it than you."

Tracing a hand over the curves of her hip, he leaned into her more. She understood it was his way of silencing her, that he no longer wanted to speak—he just wanted to feel. Granting him what he wanted, she took his hand and led it toward the final destination. She gasped at the feel of his hand as he smirked into her, loving how he could touch her and get such a delicious response.

"Scream my name," he panted against her throat, kissing her in every available spot.

She smiled, whispering, "I always do."

* * *

A/N: So what did you guys think? You all know how much I love hearing from you guys.

I'm sorry it took so long for the update, but my midterms are finally done! Yay me! Lol, finals are now approaching, but I'm good for about three weeks. Blast the quarter system!!

Oh and I'm sorry about my lack of responding to your lovely reviews, readily if at all. I've never had such a response as I am with this story so it's making it difficult for me to respond to each individual. Don't worry - I still will. It's just a matter of how long it will take me to finally get something out. :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	5. Dumbledore's Lament

A/N: One of my absolute favorite stories on fanfiction has to be the most underappreciated. It is absolutely amazing, filled with detail and a plot I can honestly say I've NEVER read before - it's so freakin' creative! Please take a look at the story 'Everything to Lose' by Heptagon - I promise you won't regret it!!

For those of you who like long stories, it's already on chapter 19 with a pre-story one-shot as well. It's so good you guys, trust me. It's a favorite story of mine so you can find it in my favorite's stories section. :)

Alright, Happy reading!

**Dumbledore's Lament - Chapter 5**

As Hermione laid in the comforts of her large four poster bed, she lightly tugged on one of her various curls, thinking about how the hell she was going to get _it_. She knew where it was in theory, but how the hell could she find the exact location? It was not like she could ask Harry where it was or Dumbledore, but she'd have to find it herself.

So how to go about it?

She'd come up with a plan a while ago, but now it seemed like she could not risk it, especially with Dumbledore questioning her the way he was. She would need something full proof at a time when she'd be sure nobody could walk in on her. There would need to be plenty of time to find the precise location. The young girl would have to find it period or else it would be on her head - Voldemort made that perfectly clear.

"Hermione are you alright? You've been really quiet all day."

Hermione would recognize the nasally voice of Lavender Brown anywhere. Rolling her brown eyes, Hermione muttered, "Fine. I just...need a few minutes alone, okay?"

"Sure," chipped the other girl. Hermione heard the distinct sound of several feet padding out of the room followed by the sound of a shutting door. She realized Lavender must have ushered her fellow classmates out thinking the recently returned Gryffindor required some much needed space. Smiling, Hermione went back to her thoughts in the privacy of the entire seventh year dorm.

Reverting back to the topic at hand, Hermione was realizing the situation was beginning to mount. The curious Gryffindor did not quite understand the point of getting such a thing, but if Voldemort needed it, she'd get it.

_I have to find it. When I do, they'll realize where my loyalties lie. Then maybe I can be with Draco entirely, in front of the clan and his parents. I mean...it's not as though Master is a pureblood so why should they look down on me? My blood is anything but muddy! They'll see...I'll make them see._

Smiling smugly, she left the room to venture into the Gryffindor common room. On her pedestal again, all eyes immediately fell on the girl with charcoal hair, wondering what she would do next. It disgusted her how everyone seemed to be fascinated by her, like she was a celebrity in some trashy muggle magazine.

_I am not bloody Harry Potter! Stop staring at me you bunch of ingrates!_

She scowled though it only looked like a sigh before she trudged out of the room to pass by Ginny Weasley, her blue eyes cast downward.

"Hey Hermione," the redhead said softly, barely audible. Hermione did not respond aloud, but just nodded, suspicion about the sixteen-year-old in front of her rising.

"I guess we haven't really spoken too much lately," scoffed Ginny. Whether it was bitterness geared at herself or at Hermione, she did not know nor did she care. Hermione had bigger and more important things occupying her thoughts.

"I guess not. Um...I've got to go meet Harry and—"

"Isn't he with the quidditch team?" interjected Ginny sharply. "I'm just going to grab my boots I left in my room and then I'm going down. Why would you be going to see him?"

Hermione noted the suspicion in her voice. _Damn it—Now I'm going to have to deal with her on my ass. Bitch..._

"Oh I just wanted to spend some time with him. I forgot you guys have a match tomorrow."

Hermione most definitely forgot about the quidditch match scheduled for the next day. She could not have found a better solution for her predicament even if she tried. _The bloody match! Everyone will be there, including Dumbledore, which will leave me free to do whatever in his office. The stupid bloke never puts an extra spell on it when he is gone and I know the gargoyle password so...it couldn't be more perfect!_

Sighing, Ginny seemed content with Hermione's answer. "Oh, right. I guess I'll see you later then," she said, walking away from the older girl's somber face. Hermione was acutely aware just how sad she looked on the outside, precisely how she wanted to look, but on the inside she was laughing like a clown on muggle helium.

0000000

"Draco."

The blond boy had been walking down the hall with Blaise on his right side when he distinctly heard the sound of a female voice calling out his name. Not that he minded hearing his name uttered by the loveliness of a girl, but the voice sounded distressed. More than that, the voice sounded like Hermione.

"Draco," the voice said again, this time more urgent than before.

This time he stopped. Draco literally stopped walking in the middle of the aisle, various people staring at the well-known seventh year boy. Blaise, who could have sworn he heard someone calling out to his best mate, looked at him with uncertainty.

"Draco–"

"I'll meet you in the quidditch pit, alright."

It was not a question, but rather a firm command. Blaise just nodded, walking along and bustling the people who had stopped to stare at the duo. Meanwhile, Draco looked around, attempting to figure out precisely where the voice was.

"Draco, damn it—to your left."

He strode in the direction, keeping a keen eye out as to make sure nobody followed him. Once he reached the darkness of the hall to his left, he felt two hands, two very small hands, yank on him. After a few moments, he was pulled into an empty classroom where he met an anxious Hermione.

"What's wrong?" he asked on instinct. Something told him by her appearance that something was out of place, something was wrong—something deep down irked him.

"Nothing is wrong, I assure you. It's actually the opposite since everything is magnificently perfect!" she screamed, launching herself into his arms which loosely held at her waist.

Hermione pulled back when she realized he was not returning her embrace. "I'm sorry, let me explain—"

"Please do," he uttered gruffly.

"Alright, well I actually need to since I'm going to need your help. I realized that the quidditch match tomorrow is the perfect opportunity for me to complete my task since everyone will be outside save for Filch who will be no trouble to me. I'll set off some spell to make sure he stays away from where I will be."

Draco nodded, urging her to continue.

"I couldn't ask for it to be more perfect. Everyone here loves quidditch and everyone knows I'm not only off but have never particularly cared for the sport—I won't be missed," she said with a smile.

Draco sighed and then asked, "Then what do you need me to do?"

"Well, the matches can range from minutes to hours and I need you Draco to make it last for as long as possible. I honestly don't know how long it will take for me to find what I'm looking for and I need as much time as you can give me. Please say you'll do your best to merely thwart Harry off the snitch rather than catching it yourself."

The blond looked down, gulping thickly before he muttered with extreme distaste, "Potter is the best damn flyer in the school. The likelihood I can even catch it is slim."

"But you're amazing. I've seen you win countless of times—"

"Against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I've never beaten Harry." His voice was grim with bitterness.

"It doesn't matter," said Hermione in an attempt to move past that; "I just need you to hold him off for as long as possible. Then, if all else fails and he does catch it, cause a stir. I don't care what you have to do—knock someone off a broom or hit Goyle with a bludger or whatever! Just make sure you don't let _anyone_ in the castle until you see me on the grounds. Can you do that?"

Draco was silent for a while, going over every possibility which could go wrong with this. If she were to be caught, not only would she be outed for what side she's on but she'd be taken from him.

He'd _die _if he lost her.

"I can do it," he muttered quietly.

"Great!" she bellowed with a cheery smile, clapping at the situation. Her lips were a breath away from his own, but he stopped her before she could lay a kiss upon his mouth.

"I just...you need to promise me you'll be careful. You can't do something out of the ordinary. Just go in, find whatever it is, get it, put it somewhere safe, and then come back onto the grounds." He sounded so stern, it almost frightened Hermione—or turned her on. Either or.

"Draco, of course. You know me, I'll be in and out. You have nothing to worry about."

0000000

Everything had gone according to plan. _Everything_.

Nearly everyone in the entire school was down at the quidditch pit, cheering on the much anticipated match between undefeated Slytherin and Undefeated Gryffindor. Slytherin had creamed Ravenclaw, with Draco snatching the snitch in under seven minutes whereas it was a massacre by Gryffindor on Hufflepuff, with Harry catching the golden ball after his teammates had scored an incredible two-hundred and seventy points.

Long story short, the spectators were eager to see Draco and Harry challenge one another in the air.

Draco had snapped at Harry before the match eliciting several shrieks of pre-game taunting, eventually turning into a full-blown war. Harry was out for blood and every students wanted to witness it. Hermione saw Draco wink at her before he left the Great Hall.

"You coming?" asked Ginny, making her way to exit.

Hermione jerked, consumed in her thoughts to have forgotten temporarily where she was. Ginny smiled and repeated, "Sorry I startled you, but are you coming to the pit?"

"No," replied Hermione meekly, "I'll meet you guys down there later. Besides you have to get ready. Go. I'll be there for the match."

The redhead sighed before exiting, wishing desperately for the friend she use to have in Hermione. The girl was there in body, yes, but there was still something wrong with her. She thought, _hoped_, her friend would get back to normal by coming home to Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, Hermione watched her fellow students leave the Great Hall to the point where only she and two giggling second years remained, the girls flipping over a silly Daily Prophet article about love potions, oblivious to Hermione's presence.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the girls realized how alone they were and exited, their pace heightening when they noticed Hermione sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, looking melancholy and unbelievably lonesome—just like she wanted.

_Damn! I thought those girls would never leave!_

Noise could already be heard from outside so Hermione was very aware of how alone she was in the castle. After casting a spell to create havoc—causing several suits of armor to run around the first level like screaming banshees, something most definitely Filch would blame on Peeves—Hermione raced to the seventh floor, jumping in front of the stone Gargoyle, the only barrier between her and Dumbledore's office.

Whispering the password, she flung herself onto the steps as it began to move, an escalator type stairway taking her to the room she knew it had to be in.

It had to be.

Right?

After opening the door slowly, paranoia making her stop to listen to her surroundings—finding it quiet, allowing her to continue—she met the sight that is Dumbledore's quirky office.

"Where are you?" she asked aloud, walking into the center, just gazing at the different objects in the room. She'd been in there several times, but the object in question was not something she'd seen with her own two eyes, merely going off of hearsay she'd gotten from Harry many years ago.

She noticed most items in the room were a hoary silver, a color she would not expect to find with Dumbledore. Gold seemed logical, but silver? It was so...Slytherin. She found this odd, but liked it none the less. She'd always had a soft spot for the color and even more so now, given her blossoming relationship with the most beautiful thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts.

Many of the objects were spinning or spitting our spurts of hot steam, the gray smoke coming out in puffs before dissolving at the starry ceiling.

A few of the former Headmasters and mistresses paintings were staring at her, giving her unappreciative looks she did not like. The stupid portraits were easy to manipulate so she did not worry about Dumbledore hearing anything from them. It was not a matter of being persuasive, but the ability to cast a certain spell, one which would not permit them to speak of her entrance. Dumbledore would never be the wiser.

Sneering, she looked around trying to find the object she desired. Taking a few steps on the mushy blue carpet, Hermione peered at every object in the room.

In a closet beneath a fluttering star, apparently bewitched to whiz around the room, her eyes were hooked to a lovely layer of silken fabrics. She opened the cabinet where she met beautiful cloaks with colors ranging from dark purple to crimson red. Like most girls, she was entranced by the lovely materials.

After staring with her mouth agape for a few moments, she finally shut the door and faced the rest of the room in search of the one item she needed.

"Where in the bloody hell did the fool put it?" she snarled aloud. Suddenly a thought came to her—"His desk!"

Her dragon-hide flats echoed in the spacious room as she tiptoed to the huge, organized desk. Most people's first instinct would be to pull out all the drawers, ruffle through them until they found what they were looking for. However, Hermione understood order and logically she knew that if it were her desk, she'd notice anything if it were out of place. So, with precision and grace a healer would use, she searched through the drawers, one-by-one.

Most of them held important parchments, something she'd foreseen. Many of them concerned important things which had happened at Hogwarts, some she even recognized; Triwizard Tournament, the Sorcerer's stone, Hogwarts under Umbridge, Hermione Granger—

_Wait. Me? Wh-what exactly is in there?_

Her curiosity got the better of her, as it often did. She should have put the folder containing her parchments aside, should have not worried about it. Not Hermione Granger. No way in bloody hell.

She had anticipated the parchments to be about her disappearance, papers concerning who she was and what had happened. What she found was something catching her completely and utterly off guard—diary notes written by Dumbledore himself!

_March 5_

_It has gotten worse. I fear we may never find Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. I understand Molly's desire to continue the search, but I think it may be rather futile. I may not want to believe it, but I truly believe we must come to terms with whether or not they are alive. _

_Hermione Granger may be a smart witch, but I highly doubt her intelligence would be enough to get her though the ordeal. I doubt anyone's intelligence could get them out safely, especially when Tom is known for ending his victims as soon as they're caught. I do not want to believe it's so, but it has been months and I need to be realistic here._

_I am having trouble debating whether or not to call off the search. My gut tells me to, but my heart tells me to keep searching, keep looking for these two students. If I bring it up to any Weasley member, my head will be put on a platter. If I bring it up to Harry—Mother of Merlin, he can barely contain his hysteria. Some Order members, such as Severus and Moody, think I should call it off. We do need the man power at headquarters, but I'm still so hesitant to do so._

_I don't want to believe those two kids are dead._

Hermione gulped thickly, her dark eyes welling up with tears for some odd reason.

No, not really. Truth be told, her body felt like crying because the letter had managed to get under her skin. It was not so much about what was said, but the manner it had been written in. The sorrow and guilt Dumbledore felt was nearly palpable—he felt strongly over losing a student; her.

Before any of the drops fell down, she looked to the next letter.

_May 23_

_It's official; the Ministry has called off the search on Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley after finding their circumstances to be anything other than fatal. It does seem like death could be the likely captor at this point, but I do not want to give in. I have a feeling in the back of my mind they are still alive._

_I have to believe this in order to remain as upbeat as possible. Most of the students are beyond mourning for their classmates, aside from the Gryffindors, most of which have refused to believe their friends are gone forever. I admire their persistence and faith to believe the two are alive. _

_Parents are worried the two will not be the only losses. The Abbott family has gone so far as to send me a howler, requesting the school to close off all outside activities such as Hogsmeade and quidditch. I think the students would be in an uproar if I cut off the quidditch, but it does seem like a good idea. If two students can be taken at Hogsmeade so easily, what is keeping Tom and his followers from just arriving here?_

Hermione had to admit he had a point, a valid one too. Why didn't Voldemort just come to Hogwarts and snatch Harry? _Get a large group, have me lure him to a certain locale, and then pounce. It seems like a good plan, right?_

Before she could get engrossed in her own thoughts again, her brown eyes swept the next piece of crisp parchment.

_July 27_

_It is nearing Harry's birthday and he is becoming extremely irritable and fowl to everyone around him. I understand his loss, but the grieving needs to stop. He has yet to come to terms with the possibility his friends are dead and merely sounds crazy, believing they are on vacation and have not been around much, lacking in giving him birthday attention. I have half a mind to shake the boy into his own senses, but why? What good will come of it?_

_Molly is just as hysterical with little help coming from her family. Ginny has taken residence in her room and practically refuses to come out each day, only exiting during meal times and even then it's seldom. The older boys have all thrown themselves into work so they would not have to think about the loss of their brother. As for Arthur, well, I've never seen the man more focused. He just traipse around the Burrow as though nothing is wrong, same as when he is in the Ministry._

_Back to Harry—I spoke with him the other day about the Weasleys and his own breakdown. The boy just stared at me with an expression of blank bewilderment until I finally finished. After a long period of silence, the boy spoke with so much malice and hate that I had trouble distinguishing whether or not it was Harry or some goblin possessing him._

_He said, "I'm going to kill him. I am going to find them and then kill him for taking them. They are my family and I am sick of people taking my family away from me."_

_I obviously knew he felt strongly for both Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, but this—it seems so extreme when it happened half a year ago. I understand hate, but to have denial along with it? I fear Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the one everyone expects to save the Wizarding World, may be losing his mind._

So much was going through her own mind, some feelings of confusions and others...were feelings she didn't like.

Hermione figured Harry would grieve, but over Ron—not over her. He had never given her the impression he cared about her like that. Maybe he had and she just did not want to see it.

There was another piece of parchment sticking out like a sore thumb, like it was calling out for her to read. She sighed before reading the thick lettering of the headmaster's neat handwriting.

_December 26_

_We found her. In the name of Merlin, we bloody found her! Hermione Granger was found near Diagon Alley in a condition which I can only describe as—alive. I do not want to burden myself by reliving the pain I felt when I saw her battered body._

_How the girl survived has yet to be determined, but I can only guess her cunningness and intelligence were the primary reasons. She has always been the resourceful girl so I know her ingenuity got her out of this mess. Amazing when you think about it._

_The first time I saw her...I felt such a heavy pang of grief and sorrow. The poor girl had to endure so much and I cannot help but think it was my fault. I should have protected her better. I should have protected the boy better. Damn it—I should have protected my students better! I'd worry myself into a coma over this, but I know it is not the time. My students need me now more than ever to guide them, to lead them, to be their Headmaster. I'm attempting to keep it together, and from what they've seen, I have; nonetheless, I feel the strong need to apologize to the poor girl. She did not deserve this._

_I am hoping within a few days she'll be more inclined to speak. The darling girl has not really spoken to anyone and her parents are in an uproar. I cannot blame them for feeling so strongly in regards to their daughter. I will not be surprised if they do not allow her to come back. I can only hope they give this remarkable girl the opportunity to continue her schooling. She, more than anyone, deserves knowledge—she yearns for it unlike others. She damn near died for it. _

_I admire her._

There was an odd thing forming in the pit of her stomach she was unfamiliar with. At one point she had been, but she had not felt the presence of the annoying creature for over a year. It was foreign to her now.

Guilt.

She felt guilt pool in and out around her. The feeling nearly disgusted her, but all thoughts, and feeling for that matter, left her in a flash—

Someone was opening the door...

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait, but I've been busy and this chapter was harder to write than I anticipated. I definitely left some subtle hints in there so tell me what you guys think! What is she looking for? Who is opening the door? I'll give a cookie to anyone who can guess (Lol, and Stormmaster you don't count for the former since you already figured it out!).

Oh and I know the chapter is kind of short, but I had to stop it here. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but the next chapter didn't fit well in the same chapter as this. I'll try to keep the wait for the next chapter short.

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it!

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	6. Realization

**Realization - Chapter 6**

Pacing. He was pacing. The Dark Lord does not pace yet there he was, moving back and forth across the slippery floor, talking to himself with decadent abandon. The man was not scared - just worried. At least, it was what he told himself.

Catching Sybil Trelawny turned out to be a chaotic mess. The woman was bonkers and only caught out of sheer desire to annoy and bother Dumbledore, nothing more. However, catching everyone in the room off guard, including The Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy, she spoke a prophecy.

Her voice had been low and scratchy, abnormal from the high-pitched, banshee screeches normally heard from her fat mouth. She had uttered haunting words to the Dark Lord, telling him of what was to come.

One item was going to kill him. One item would lead to his downfall. One item which was currently in the possession of Albus Dumbledore, the only man he graced to fear. It was possible for him to give the item to Harry Potter, the said boy suppose to kill him. What could he do? What the fuck could he _possibly do_?!

He knew what to do, precisely why he sent the mudblood in to get it. The girl had done little in regards to bringing it to him, making him worry even more and finding the need to hurt her growing stronger. If she did not bring it to him the next time he called for her, then he was going to act; viciously.

The cloaked man kept pacing and pacing and pacing...

0000000

Hermione jerked her head, alarm shooting through her as she witnessed the large door opening slowly.

_Oh Merlin, no...I am so fucked..._

Gnawing at her lower protruded lip, she thought about every plausible excuse she could say; sleepwalking; a much needed meeting with Dumbledore; all of which sounded completely made up or made her seem bonkers.

_What the hell do I do?!_

She saw a large, dragon-hide boot step inside hesitantly, certainly not the type of shoe Dumbledore would be using to cover his own feet. Her heart, which had plummeted to the very pit of her stomach, started beating again when she saw a set of jet black hair walk into the room.

"Blaise?!" she screamed in half-alarm and half-relief.

"Shh!" he beckoned, throwing his hands up to intensify her need to be quiet. Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress any further outbursts she wanted so much to scream out. _Damn him for scaring me so!_

"Are you trying to get caught? What if I had been Dumbledore?" he asked hastily, shutting the door behind him.

"I had an excuse," she lied, not wanting to deal with his accusations even if they were deserved. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"There was a problem at the field and Draco told me to come get you. Everyone is returning to the castle and you can't be caught so—"

"What kind of problem? Is he alright?" she inquired, worry written all over her pale face.

Blaise stood rooted at the spot for a moment before he sighed and said, "Your precious Potter fell off his broom and everyone is fawning over him."

"Is that all?" she asked, obviously satisfied with his response. "You had me worried for a moment," she breathed with her hand resting carefully over her heart.

"Yeah, well, what the hell are you still doing here? Draco told me you'd be in and out and now you're bloody reading?"

"No," she defended, "I just...I was looking through the fool's desk and something caught my attention. It's no big deal and I'm putting it away now. Besides, I _did_ think what I'm looking for could have been in here. Now that I know I am wrong, I'll look elsewhere."

Hermione turned her attention to the desk, muttering cleaning spells so everything fell back into place. It was not as though she made a mess, but her file was in complete disarray after searching through it in such haste. Blaise peered over his shoulder, checking on the door. Call him paranoid, but he was not keen on being discovered in the headmaster's office with Hermione Granger searching through the man's desk.

"There," she muttered, shutting the last drawer and looking up at him.

"Good. Now, what exactly are you looking for?" he asked, crossing the distance between them.

Hermione shook her head. "Master told me to keep it quiet. I haven't even told Draco and—"

"This is not the time, Granger. We need to locate what ever it is and right quick because Dumbledore will be coming in shortly. I know for a fact he'll be putting this incident in his penseive, given he always does that."

"How did you—"

"You still have so much to learn about our side, Granger. At least give me a hint as to what we're looking for."

Hermione was quiet as she stared at the irritable Slytherin. One of the reasons she did not want to tell them, along with Voldemort's firm demand of keeping it to herself, was her need to do this alone. _I don't need help. I can bloody do this myself!_

Without giving him an answer, she turned her back on him to gaze over the room again. The possibilities were endless in a room filled with such exotic items and a vast amount of mysterious objects. What she wanted could virtually be _anywhere _in the office.

"Granger—"

"Shut up," she interjected rudely, "I'm thinking."

Blaise stomped his foot impatiently, cursing a blue streak for getting involved in such a thing. He always knew the mudblood would lead to trouble and with Draco falling for her the way he was...damn it, he knew she would be the death of his best mate.

Hermione looked across the room when something caught her attention—The sorting hat. _Didn't Potter mention something about the hat? Something about Fawkes bringing the hat to him which in turned held it. It has to be in there...Please, be in there..._

The girl walked over the short distance to stare at the floppy material sitting atop a high shelf. With supreme effort, she sat on her tip toes in an attempt to reach it. After several failed attempts she pulled out her wand. Before a spell could be muttered, however, Blaise had reached up and yanked down the hat with ease.

"Thanks," she grumbled, snatching the hat from him.

"Snippy little thing, aren't you?" he quipped, making her scoff at him. Instead of returning an insult, she turned her attention to the hat (which was surprisingly quiet), staring at it and confusing the Slytherin next to her.

"What are y—"

Blaise stopped talking when a long, elegant sword appeared in the hat. Hermione smirked and yanked it out, shoving the Sword of Gryffindor into the confines of her black belt in replacement for a sheath.

"That...is that—"

"Yes it is," she said flatly. "Come on, we've got to get out of here before someone sees us."

Not needing to be told twice, Blaise rushed toward the door and bustled her out before shutting it with finality.

Hermione and Blaise scurried away from their prior location. The tall boy kept throwing glances over his shoulder, but nobody was there. Paranoia; a punishment for being bad. It was when they reached the third floor that Blaise's thoughts were forced to subside as Hermione had asked him a question, something he was not thrilled about answering—

"What has the Slytherins in an uproar? I would assume Harry's fall would be worthy of a party and such."

Blaise looked forward, eyes scanning the corridor she was referring to. He saw a few Slytherins running around in a tizzy, the girls crying their eyes out as the boys walked with their heads hung low.

The dark-haired girl faced him, black tendrils falling in front of her brown eyes. Unlike the Slytherin girls who would all believe the barrage of lies he could tell them, he had a feeling based on Hermione's inquisitive look that there was no way of getting around it. He had to tell her.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice slightly higher pitched than before.

"Um..." He felt foolish not saying anything other than a sheepish 'um', but he the thought of telling her was not appealing.

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of worry and annoyance on her pretty face. Blaise had to admit she was a perfect match for Draco with her short temper.

"I didn't tell you the whole story. You see, Potter took someone else down when he fell."

Hermione's face paled, not needing to be told who else had fallen. He'd taken Draco down with him.

Blaise watched her turn toward the Hospital Wing, but he stopped her, grabbing her firmly by the upper arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked harshly.

"Let me go! I have to see him—"

"You can't," barked Blaise. "You cannot go down there to see him."

Hermione tried to disengage from his grip, but he was too strong for her. Her eyes were welling up with angry tears, but she was not allowing them to spill over.

"What will this accomplish?" he asked, pinning her by the shoulders to a wall, alarming most of the students in the area. He spoke low as to not reveal the discussion between them. "You cannot go to Draco. You want to honor him, avenge him? Then you remain quiet and not breathe a word to anyone. Remember what side you're on and remember what you hold against your body. If anyone discovers what you're up to then everything you've worked for will be lost. You will not be able to be with him. You need to be careful and remember your actions have consequences."

"I can't not see him," she whispered.

"Go up to your room and be rid of the sword, putting it in a safe place. Then, you go to Potter, but out of the corner of your eyes you look at Draco. I know my best friend and waking up to discover the girl he loves in the confines of Azkaban will kill him. I've never seen him like this before and I sure as Merlin never thought his feelings would be directed at you. None the less, he cares for you. Do not disappoint him by getting caught." Blaise's grip had loosened, but his green eyes were still piercing at the girl.

"I uh..." It was obvious she could not finish.

Blaise cleared his throat and loudly said, "Go to Potter. Calm down first, of course, but then go to him. Clean yourself up, too. You look a dreadful mess."

Chuckling he turned away to leave Hermione against the wall. Several Gryffindors ran to her side, but she shied them all away. Running with the speed of a gazelle, she reached the portrait of the fat lady and trudged inside in a tizzy. Ignoring the anxious calls of 'Hermione' which only could have been from Lavender Brown, she raced into her dorm, slamming the door behind her.

Sliding down on her knees, she threw open her trunk meeting the lovely organized contents. In a frenzy, she threw various things out, not caring what happened to her precious belongings. Her thoughts were nothing other than two words repeating over and over in her mind—

Draco

Sword

Draco

Sword

DRACO!

Placing the Sword of Gryffindor neatly into her trunk allowed her body to relax for a moment. However, the anxiety returned when the other word she repeated flashed before her eyes like a taunting neon sign.

DRACO!

Breathing was no longer an easy task as her lungs and throat felt constricted. It felt like someone was compressing her chest down, not allowing cold air to enter her body. Whirling dizziness had her leaning against the bed frame for support. Before she knew what was happening, her body collapsed. The last thing she heard before the darkness claimed her, aside from the clatter of her body against the cold floor, was the distant screams of what sounded like three girls behind her.

0000000

When Hermione's burnt umber eyes met the dim lights of the hospital wing, she felt extremely heavy and unable to move most limbs. Her slim fingers wound weakly around the white bed sheets beneath her body while her toes scratched along the outer rim of the small bed.

After several moments of failed attempts to move in a normal manner, her chocolate eyes scanned the room for any other sign of life. To her right, she spotted Harry resting clad identically to her, both in bed and hospital attire. Black glasses askew and messy hair even more shambolic than usual, Harry looked relatively normal as he slumbered peacefully.

A mop of red-hair was resting atop of his sheets, a small freckled hand grasping Harry's pale limb, interlacing their various fingers. Noting their intimate position, her mind wandered to her own man, who she last heard was still residing in the same locale.

Turning her vertiginous head toward the left, she scanned the dark room for him. Numerous beds lined the wall and she almost missed him. His colorless hair caught her attention. Draco was leaning back against the headboard, grey-iced eyes staring forward in a daze, clearly lost in his own hazy world. Hermione's awakened presence had yet to register to him allowing Hermione a clear view of his injury—a large gash ran along the outer part of his jaw along his neck and down to his chest.

_I'm going to kill Harry Potter!_

Giving Harry and Ginny another unsure and wearily look, with her remaining strength she removed herself from the confines of her bed.

Draco did not even notice the soft footsteps cantering toward him until Hermione stood directly in front of his bed. He opened his mouth in protest, intending to tell her to return to her bed so she could rest (plus, it was running the risk of them being caught by her standing the way she was), but for some reason he bit his tongue and shut his mouth.

"Are you alright?" she asked shakily, standing on wobbly legs.

Draco frowned and looked down. He sighed, "I should ask you the same thing. I wake up and discover you're here and not in perfect health. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," she breathed honestly. "I um...I don't know. Everything was alright until I...damn it...I went into his office and everything just didn't go as planned."

"Were you caught?" he asked in a near silent voice.

Shaking her head, she muttered, "No. Blaise came into the room and startled me. I was not expecting to be interrupted, but there is good news." She flashed him a grin, one which he did not return, before she revealed, "I did find what he wanted. I did it, Draco."

"Great," he replied, looking away from her gaze.

It did not take a bloody genius or someone of Hermione's vast intellect to realize how upset he was. His cracked and defeated voice was an obvious giveaway, but his posture and facial expression acknowledged his exacerbation.

"Draco I—"

"I realized something when I woke up and I saw the sheWeasley with Potter. Normally I would have been disgusted by the sight of something like that, but this time...it fucking irked me."

"Why?" she asked sincerely.

Draco shook his head, explaining, "I can never have that. Not with you at least. Being honest, I normally wouldn't bloody care if it were any other girl, but things are different with you. I'll never be able to wake up here to the sight of your bloody gorgeous face or be able to hold your hand if and when it's you lying in the bed. I can't help you, run to you, comfort you, or have the mutual affection you feel returned. I fucking envy him for having the ability to be with his girl when I can't."

Hermione bit her lip, a subconscious gesture of the uncomfortable situation taking a toll on her.

"I realized how much this...hurts. You have me under a spell and I don't know if I like the feeling."

"What?" she asked, unsure of what he meant. "Um...what are you trying to say—"

"It's not like that, Hermione. Damn it—I want so much to be with you...it hurts sometimes. I don't think I can bear to be apart, but it just blows how I can't hold you or even fucking talk to you without screwing up everything."

His words sent her into a paranoid frenzy making her peer over her shoulder, making sure Ginny and Harry slept continually.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, turning around to face him.

Shaking his head, he contented, "I don't know. I just don't fucking know. I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone or at least not while I'm here. After the war, maybe, but not now. Not when there is a possibility of losing you."

"You won't," she declared, feeling her palms sweat.

"You don't know that. Damn it—we really don't know that. When it comes out during the battle...they'll be out for your blood." Draco's face contorted for a moment with agony, hating the thought of anyone doing something to her. What was wrong with him?! Grant it, he did care for certain people. It would bother him if his mother was harmed, but if it was for the greater good of his purpose, of the Dark Lord's arise, then so be it. He was willing to make the sacrifice. When it came to Hermione...it was a whole different story.

He had a feeling she would be the death of him.

"Draco...I—"

"Hermione what the hell are you doing?"

Jerking her head, she faced the piercing blue eyes of Ginny Weasley along with the comatose gaze of Harry Potter, both looking at her with uncertainty and ambiguity. It was obvious how much they were questioning the girl.

Hermione's sable hair swayed over her shoulders as she looked back and forth between her 'friends' and her 'enemy'.

Draco, realizing her inability to come up with a proper lie, smirked; "I think the ruddy ginger freak asked you a question, mudblood. Care to answer her? Personally I'd like to know myself."

The girl's dark gaze softened, but only for a moment, allowing her to whisper a silent 'I love you'. Afterwards, she sneered at him with utmost distaste.

"I only came to talk to you about Harry and how you're going to stay away from him. Come near him again and I'll be sure to place your own wand somewhere that not even your mother would venture. Got it?"

Ginny moved over toward them, wrapping an arm around her friend, shying her away from the blond boy. "Come on, Hermione. He isn't worth it."

"Oh I'm worth it. Trust me, I'm worth more than all your family owns so fear not about my worth, Weasley," smirked Draco coyly.

"You conniving, disgusting, moronic ingrate—"

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?!" barked Madame Pomfrey. "I fully expect Miss Granger to be in bed in a matter of moments, for Mr. Malfoy to throw himself in a vat of silence, for Mr. Potter to return to bed, and for Miss Weasley to exit the hospital. I mean _now_!"

Hermione waddled back over to bed without so much as another glance toward Draco, ushered by the red-haired girl. Madame Pomfrey pulled back the covers, helping Hermione enter the uncomfortable bed.

"Now, you must go back to bed Miss Granger. You need rest right now."

"What exactly is wrong with me," asked Hermione, forcing Draco to perk his ears up from across the room, attempting to hear what the mediwitch was saying.

The woman sighed, "You had a panic attack. Miss Weasley ran in the room flustered along with Miss Patil and Miss Brown to find you in such a weak state. I understand the stress from Mr. Potter's fall, but darling you cannot over exert yourself. On top of all this, you're just returning back. Don't you think you should take it easy?"

Hermione looked down and away. What was she going to do? On top of dealing with Draco getting hurt, she was dealing with the Sword of Gryffindor and the guilt still riding around in her body. Yes, the guilt had to be a primary cause for the stress attack on her body.

"Please rest Miss Granger. As for you Miss Weasley–" she said, emphasizing her words like speaking with a small child, "–I fully expect you to be gone when I come back out in five minutes. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

With a nod, the woman left, giving Ginny reign for a few moments to speak with her female friend as Harry promptly went back to sleep.

"Are you alright?" asked Ginny.

"I'm okay. I just—" Her gaze reverted over to Draco who was staring back, telling her in every way how much he loved her; "—I'm tired. I'm just really tired."

"Well, it's to be expected. You should rest. You look like You-Know-Who just walked into the room."

Hermione chuckled. Unbeknownst to Ginny, Hermione's laughter was encased with fear—she didn't know how truly right she was.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter gave me a lot of grief. The chapter is vital for the ending to make sense so again, I'm sorry - but I do hope you all enjoy it!

I'm not getting my review alerts nor am I able to respond to any of you. You all know fanfic - it goes through annoying spells like this. Anyways, I'll just say THANK YOU to everyone who responded to the last chapter. The following people get cookies for guessing right: Chocolateveela (for the sword), TheSlayerettes (for guessing Blaise), StormMasters (for guessing the sword), and half a cookie to Isabella Heart (for guessing an ally). Hehe, thanks to the rest of you just for reading. _You guys are ALL awesome!!_

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

Evil's Mistress is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	7. Nobody Wins

**Nobody Wins - Chapter 7**

"Hey Blaise," whispered Hermione slowly, sinking back into the bedframe.

Ginny whipped around to stare at the dark haired boy, smirking as though he owned the place. In a literal way, he practically did. His parents donated a large sum of galleons to the school about four years prior, supposedly intended for Slytherin accommodations. Stating Slytherins used the Hospital Wing just as much as anyone else, Dumbledore put the money to use there. The Zabini family raged over this, sniping at Dumbledore's trickery which more or less turned into silent grumbles knowing they could not say anything about it. Technically, Dumbledore did no wrong.

"Granger. SheWeasley." His acknowledgments were no more than a method of taunting, primarily at Ginny.

"Go away," snarled Ginny ruthlessly, "You're not welcome on _this side—_" throwing her arms around to represent the area surrounding Hermione, Harry, and herself—"of the wing. Why don't you venture done there to the ferret? He may actually pretend to enjoy your company."

Blaise smirked before he said, "You're kind of cute when you're all pissed off. If you didn't associate with mudbloods and such, I might actually go for you. You are a pureblood after all, though nobody can really tell by the way you act."

Ginny never got a chance to reply, as much as she would have liked to, given Blaise turned around to meet his friend. The red-head huffed, but she too turned around to meet the melancholy face of Hermione. Her eyes were downcast at her hands, shuffling them back and forth. One thing about Hermione to be admired, or feared by her enemies, was her adept ability to think when dozens of things happen around her. While she heard the arguing between Blaise and Ginny, though only jumbled bits, her thoughts primarily focused on what she planned to do about the situation—getting the sword to Voldemort just seemed wrong for some reason. She knew of his fears, knowing what the prophecy meant, and thought it best to leave the sword alone; safe and away from her master. The farther away in physicality then the farther away her master would be from harm.

Hermione's attention snapped fully back when she realized Ginny's hand waving in front of her in attempt to focus her thoughts again. Hermione licked her lips before she muttered, "Sorry. My thoughts ran away with me." Lie; she had heard their bickering stop, but felt better engrossed in her own thoughts. She hoped the redhead would soon leave her to those thoughts.

"Yes, well, your friend Blaise over there—"

"Blaise is not my friend," snapped Hermione anxiously. The tone of her voice wearied Ginny's trust just a little bit more. "What on earth would make you say that?"

"It was a figure of speech Hermione considering you do spend a significant amount of time with him. He is your...tutor or whatever you want to call him," she replied sensibly though with much suspicion. "I didn't mean for you to take offense."

Hermione let out a heavy breath, sighing and realizing her mistake. She was becoming so paranoid that it was starting to affect her relationships with everyone and not just the ones she loved.

"My...aren't you a bit dodgy?" noted Ginny, her cobalt eyes sweeping her friend's appearance over. Hermione definitely looked flushed, but the girl could not determine whether the high color derived from fever or from worry.

"I'm sorry. I think...I think I just need some rest." After the words were spoken, Hermione turned on her side, obscuring her view. Hermione heard a faint sigh before soft steps. Ginny was gone.

In the distance, from across the room, another argument was taking place...

"Are you alright?" asked Blaise, checking out the long scar along his neck and upper chest. "Do you know you look like hell?"

Draco eyed him vexatiously, not keen on answering a paradox. Draco's mind reeled in uproar, the ability to both listen and think coming to him in full force; always had. Blaise had yet to inform him about how everything went with Hermione. She'd brushed over it, but Blaise spoke with him before Hermione yet did not mention that anything went wrong. Then Hermione came into the wing, unconscious and unmoving, and yet Blaise still did not mention anything was amiss. Draco's inert lips extended beyond Blaise's asinine questions.

"Draco you've got to talk to me. What's going on in that fat head of yours?" asked Blaise, his mocking tone lessening.

Draco's acerbity extended on, continuing to keep his lips tightly shut. Having no intentions of speaking to his best mate at the moment, he turned on his side like Hermione had done to Ginny, shielding his face.

Blaise realized Draco's anger directed toward him making him leave the room. If Draco did not want to talk to him, fine—so be it. _Even if I was the one to bloody save his girlfriend's ass, but fine, whatever. Let him sulk if that's what his stubborn ass wants._

What was Draco to do?

His best mate neglected to give him a full story and in such, Draco's trust dwindled. Hermione recently blacked out, panic and stress overcoming her. Obviously Hermione could not handle everything being thrown at her. Who could blame her? Most of this was new.

Draco had a feeling he would need to take most matters in his own hands. Perhaps thinking for himself—something he claimed he always did, if only to keep himself sane, knowing full well he did not—would be a much harder concept than planned.

0000000

After another day of rest, Draco left the Hospital Wing in full health and without the ghastly scar; Pomfrey had done well to diminish it, mending his abnormally pale skin. He did not tell Hermione how the scar came about knowing it would scare her into another panic. You see...when Harry knocked him off his broom, he fell to the ground; hard. His body landed on the broom..._acting like a sheath_.

Hermione left the night before, worry gnawing at her until the early morning when dawn breeched over the mountain bends surrounding Hogwarts. Sitting on her windowsill, she placed her hand against the glass, watching the rain cascade down the crystal slot. The cold chill swept throughout her very soul, but she kept her fingers firmly placed against the glazing.

When had everything gone so wrong?

Truth be told, when she went to Hogwarts. Everything about her life changed and transformed when she saw the green ink of her Hogwarts letter. Before the post arrived on that Monday afternoon, she had been ordinary, born into a family of respectable muggles. As upstanding people of the dentistry profession, the couple took pride in their only daughter, a child who always excelled in all things thrown at her. Hermione was the ideal child and her life had been not only sheltered, but idyllic.

Not one to lie, Hermione knew Hogwarts had originally been seen as a blessing by her and her parents. Nothing could go amiss and certainly the prospect of a life filled with wands and charms seemed sublime. At the beginning it was. Then she met Harry and...well, her life began to go downhill.

She may have been part of the Golden Trio, but aside from initially having the same goal in mind, she never fit in with them. After all, being the only female of the group and the smartest of the three, they tended to isolate themselves from her. She hardly recognized it herself until the Dark Lord coaxed out the truth.

_The truth, of course. He did bring the truth about. Right?_

"Am I not doing the same thing over again? Am I not submitting myself into following another's orders?" It did not register that she was speaking aloud, but no matter—she was alone in her room...or so she thought.

"I've been following him and listening to him since this started. Why follow the masses? Why am I not thinking for myself?"

"Perhaps because you've spent so long in a cage."

Hermione turned around to see Ginny standing in the doorway, red-hair hanging loosely around her heart-shaped face. They were both trying to read the other, both failing miserably. The same emotional barrier blockading Hermione's face seemed fenced around Ginny's.

"Are you talking about the Order, following Dumbledore's orders? Or are you referring to someone else?" asked Ginny in a soft voice.

"Of course I'm talking about Dumbledore. Who else would I be talking about?" Hermione's voice sounded damn near bent on desperation, a plea for her to understand.

"I don't know Hermione," replied Ginny, walking into the room, closing the door which had been left ajar. "I just don't know anymore with you. Ever since you've been back, you've been someone else and I don't know if I like this someone else."

"I don't need this—"

"This, I know. You don't need any of it," interjected Ginny sharply, "and I know you probably expect me to just give into that. To stop questioning you. I'm not going to. I can't anymore because I've remained quiet throughout this whole ordeal yet I don't think I should. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hermione looked away toward the window again, staring at the falling rain drops. She could hear Ginny stepping closer to her and Hermione had to admit she felt scared—Ginny had to know. Why else would she question her like this?

"I'm not going to pretend like I can relate to you, Hermione. I've been sheltered from most of the bad things this war has brought on unlike you. I agree with this war, though, for I know I fight for justice and I fight for your kind in the right to live. I fight because I know in my heart it's right. He-who-must...not..._Voldemort_ must be stopped."

Hermione had never heard her speak with such force. Of course, Ginny had said his name before, but most of the time she used the terms 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' or 'You-Know-Who', feeling scared like most people to utter such a vicious word. The emphasis she put on the her Master's name alerted her just how involved Ginny really was in the war.

Both girls were breathing heavily, scared in what the other planned to do. What either of them said would have lasting effects on not only their relationship, but on others' outlooks.

"I don't know what happened to you in there nor does anyone else. You've cut off all ties with us and I know the Hermione before all this happened. She would have thrown herself at us, screaming at the top of her lungs what happened and—"

"And what do you want me to say?!" bellowed Hermione, standing up from her comfortable position against the frosted window. Her red face flushed to a crimson glow as her hands shook with near palpable fear. "I don't know what you want me to say. Do you have a particular question? What?!"

Ginny stood there remaining quiet. Countless questions ran through her mind yet she could not bring herself to ask any. She had her suspicions, but little proof to place on them. She did not want to reveal to Hermione that she heard the end of her conversation with Malfoy, just yet at least. Something was most definitely wrong.

"Unless you have something to ask or anything worth me listening to, then I suggest you leave the seventh year dorm. You're no longer welcome in here Ginny. Perhaps I'll come see you when I can stand to look at you again. How dare you question me like that?!" Hermione's voice echoed so much she figured most of the people in Gryffindor Tower would hear her cries. No matter, she wanted precisely that. She wanted Ginny to be on the receiving end like this.

Ginny, for the most part, remained composed and collected, keeping direct eye contact with the dark-haired girl. Noting hair in particular, Ginny stared at Hermione's appearance. Her ebony hair had been pulled back in a slick bun, tendrils falling in her face. Clad only in a grungy Durmstrang sweatshirt, no doubt one she got from Victor Krum, and ratty football shorts, she appeared casual and blasé. Hermione usually wore clothes based on comfort rather than appearance, but the way she put herself together gave a different impression. She'd never worn Krum's jerseys and quidditch shirts on the grounds of jealousy between her two male friends, both of whom had strong opinions about who to support in the game, yet there she was wearing his sweatshirt. The grungy shorts were far shorter than usual, hiked up high on her thigh. She just...didn't look like Hermione.

Crossing the room back to the door, Ginny stopped short before exiting. When she spoke next, it was with her back to Hermione; "I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but just know that I'm not as out of it as you may think. I know something is amiss and I fully intend on finding out. Mark my words, _Hermione_."

In one fluid movement and slamming of the door, the red head left. Hermione stood there, _unmoving_, for several minutes.

0000000

Draco entered the Great Hall with a look of malice on his face, sneering toward the blindly loyal Gryffindors, hell bent on eyeing him militantly after what went down with Harry. Searching the table for Hermione, his eyes never found her which alarmed him.

_Where is she? _

Reluctantly he walked toward the Slytherin table after getting a stern glance from Snape. The man knew what Draco's thoughts were reverting to—or more like who—and Snape was not someone to cross. Draco may be his favorite, but he could only push his buttons so far. Unlike others, Snape knew what Draco and Hermione were up to. Smart enough to know Snape would have his ass, Draco sat down next to Blaise and his other fellow Slytherins.

"Are you feeling better Draco?" asked Blaise, eyes focused on the plate in front of him. He'd expect the sort of bad-mannered aloofness from Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were feasting on the plentiful food in front of them, grunting in approval, but not from Blaise. Aside from Blaise being raised in a manner of upstanding class, it was not in his personality to be rude toward Draco. The two always gave each other their solid and full attention; mutual respect notion.

"I suppose you're still pissed at me," muttered Blaise, still looking down at his plate.

Draco glanced at him, muttering, "I wouldn't say that. I'm just annoyed at the situation altogether. Can we drop it, now?"

"Fine," he uttered flatly, not even lifting up his eyes to acknowledge anything between them. Needless to say, things were tense between the two Slytherins.

Draco's attention reverted back to his beloved, wondering unequivocally where the hell she was. With so much going on and their movements being constantly watched, the few moments they did get to see each other, at least in the presence of others, were welcomed by him. Yet, another moment passed by without the others' presence and Draco sure as hell did not like it.

"I think she and Potter are together right now," murmured Blaise, under his breath as to not alert anyone else at the table.

Draco wondered fleetingly what her and Potter were doing, but focused back on the present. "Have you received any..._messages _lately?"

"No," replied Blaise simply, "I suppose you haven't either. I don't know about the girl."

Draco shook his head, staring down at his cloak-covered wrist. "She wouldn't. You know she doesn't have it yet."

"_Yet_..._right_."

Draco's head whipped toward Blaise so fast that it nearly toppled him over. _'Yet...right.'—what the fuck is that suppose to mean?! What the fuck is he bloody implying?!_

Without lingering, he bluntly asked just that; "what the fuck is that suppose to mean?" Draco's harsh voice sent chills down the spines of every Slytherin at the table, all of whom had jerked at the sound of his fury-filled voice. Everyone's attention now fixated on the two most important of Slytherins; one head boy, the other a Malfoy.

"Draco I suggest—"

"I suggest you remember not only who you're talking to, but about. If I ever hear that type of sarcasm drip from your tongue again, then be prepared to lose it."

Draco stood up, pushed in his seat harshly, fought down the urge to growl out in narked anger, won (barely), and then walked heatedly down the aisle to the exit.

While nearly all the Slytherins watched Draco march from the room in heated dander, Blaise still focused his attention on his dinner.

0000000

Draco managed to search most of the castle and not find a trace of Hermione anywhere. Catching sight of quidditch outside through a raining window, he realized Potter was flying around the pit. Hermione had to be there.

The walk allowed him much time to think certain matters over. Obviously, Blaise still had wary thoughts regarding Hermione, an utterly ridiculous notion. Of course she fought for the right side, _their side_, so why give her such grief? Bloody hell, they were fighting for the same cause!

Reaching the grounds made him feel better, letting the cool air brush against his face, rain drops drenching his hair and robes. He could see Harry flying around on his broom, swirling in circular motions over a particular person; one Hermione.

Ducking down beneath the stands, still in ear shot as to allow him the ability to hear their distant yet forceful conversation, he stood still, shaded by the darkness.

Hermione could be seen throwing her arms around, waving like crazy, an attempt to grasp Harry's firm attention, who was still flying about the sky, oblivious to the coldness of the night air. She looked slightly haggard, like someone had been virtually bothering her all day.

"Harry! For Merlin's sake, will you please just come down here and talk to me like a rational person?! You're roaming the sky like some spoiled _child_," she said bitterly, emphasizing the last word in particular.

With Harry, even from his incredible height in the air, one could easily distinguish a wholesome, unfriendly snort coming from the dark-haired boy. "I'm the child? Please, Hermione, give me a break. You're the one who has been acting like some scared tot since the moment you arrived back. What is bloody wrong with you? And where in the name of Merlin have you been vanishing off to? I know it's not the library, as was my first thought, given I have gone there several times and never once found you."

"Where I go when I need to be alone is certainly none of your business," she spat firmly, "and even so, why would I tell you at all? It would defeat the purpose of being alone you insufferable prat!" Her voice rose several octaves, losing battle with her impending frustration.

"Hermione you're not the same girl. I just don't know you anymore nor does anyone else. I understand what happened to you—"

"You know _nothing_ of what happened to me!" she screamed hoarsely.

Harry sighed, taking cue to drop to the ground, his dragon-hide boots splashing the mud beneath him. Finally, after a long pause of mutual staring, he muttered, "Then why don't you tell me? Why don't you open up to me or to Ginny or to...to anyone and let us help you! We want to understand and to know what happened—"

"No you don't," she uttered firmly, though her tone had change, much to Harry's–and Draco's–surprise. When she spoke, her voice seemed despairing and bittersweet; "I doubt anyone would want to know what happened. I don't...Merlin, I don't even know...I–I just..."

She wasn't even making sense, much to Harry's dismay. However, this little speech gave him a slight bit of hope. Could she open up? Was she willing to open up?

Biting down on his tongue, gulping thickly, he straightened out, extending a hand toward her shoulder. She accepted his gesture, leaning into his arm, before he engulfed her into a complete embrace. Draco watched with covetous wonderment—both jealous and interested. He did not like the way Potter's hands caressed Hermione's back, roaming fairly close to her waist. The wonderment extended toward Hermione, pondering her motives behind such intimate contact with her former best mate.

Finally, after several long minutes, much too long for Draco's liking, Harry and Hermione disengaged from one another, Hermione looking at him with the same bittersweet stare she'd used before.

Confused as to her look, he asked, "What?"

Hermione shook her head, muttering, "It's nothing. I just...I think you'll know soon enough about what happened. Just give it—me...some time and it will come out. Okay?"

Harry seemed satisfied and appeased by her answer, succumbing to the knowledge of Hermione gradually moving back into her life with him and the rest of her friends and family. Time...that's all it was.

"It's freezing and we should—"

"You go ahead," she interjected, sounding pensive, "I think I'll stay out here for a minute. Collect my thoughts and just...listen to the rain, _feel_ the rain. I've missed this, you know? Just...letting go."

Harry, knowing Hermione obviously needed more time alone, nodded tersely before exiting the quidditch pit. The girl's smile dwindled the further away he got, leaving entirely once Harry was no longer within sight.

Taking his cue to enter at Harry's departure, Draco emerged from beneath the stands to meet Hermione. Though her back was to him, she spoke first; "how long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," he replied shortly. "You seemed...somber. Why?"

Hermione sighed. "Perhaps because I am. This wasn't just a random meeting with Harry...I was saying good-bye."

"Good-bye?" repeated Draco, more so out of confusion, wanting her to extend on what she meant.

Without saying another word, she held up a piece of parchment in the air, water dripping down on it. Draco snatched it in fear of the rain drops ruining the paper, using himself to cloak and shield the parchment from the water.

Draco read the black ink with astonishment clouding his lovely ice-blue eyes...

_Young one—_

_Be prepared for you have three days. The object of my desire better be in your possession by then or face the most painful of deaths, along with all the others, by the bare hands of me._

The letter had not been signed nor was there a reason for a signature. Draco knew without a doubt, aside from the inky scripture, the letter had been written by the Dark Lord. Not just some servant death eater, someone who hoped to pledge allegiance, but the actual man...well, the actual being. Voldemort was no more a man at this point than Filch's ruddy cat Mrs. Norris.

_We attack in three days? Why was I not informed?_

As though she read his mind, she muttered, in apparent afterthought, "Most likely he'll alert you in two days time, giving you one day to prepare. He'll...he will want to keep you on your toes, not to mention wouldn't want to run the risk of anything getting out."

"And you think sending a letter, a letter which easily could have been intercepted, would be classified as discreet?" asked Draco harshly, knowing better than to get mad at her. It wasn't her fault all this would be happening so soon.

No matter; she seemed relatively unaffected by his tone. Hermione continued, "I've just come to realize that nobody wins. We can't win in this."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice calmer than before.

"Whatever the outcome, whatever happens...nobody wins. If our Master wins, then the likelihood that I'll survive will be slim to none."

"Not true," he said firmly, walking toward her and desperately wanting to hold her. He couldn't, nonetheless, because they were still in broad daylight in a very visible place. Anyone could have come out and seen them together.

Hermione pushed back her drenched hair, running her fingers through the soft dampness, as she added, "On top of which, my entire species–muggleborns–will all be killed off."

"Hermione," drawled Draco in a deep voice, "I...call me a prat, but I just don't get this. I mean I thought you already thought this stuff through. I thought you knew what you were doing and—"

"The only thing I thought about was how much I love you!" she screamed, jerking around to face him. The rain shielded her face from whether or not she was crying, but it was no matter to Draco. Hearing her voice crack, such desperation leaving her pink lips, had been enough to break his heart. There was no need for tears as he could already tell she felt agony and fear over what would be coming. "Nothing mattered to me when I first agreed to all of this because all I thought about was you. I just wanted to be with you and now that I've actually come to realize the result of my actions...I..."

She broke off, suddenly finding interest in the muddy contents beneath her already soggy shoes. Draco ran a hand through his slick, damp hair, a nervous gesture belying his normally cool facade.

"Not to mention," she continued in a choke voice, "everyone will be out for my blood. I betrayed their side and...I think...there are some on Potter's side where 'forgive and forget' does not ring a bell. After the Dark Lord, I'll be the number one target. There will probably be a bounty on my bloody head!" she screamed, losing control like never before. Draco watched her pull and tug on her curls, anger and fear wracking her body into spasms.

"Again," she started, once she felt able enough to compose herself, "nobody wins if Potter wins because that would mean our side lost. Either way...I have the strong feeling we'll be parted."

"No," he growled in the most animalistic voice she'd ever heard. His voice seared with fear, rage, and anxiety all at once. He pushed on, "Nothing will part me from you, do you understand? We're going to get through this, whether our side wins or not."

"How?" she asked desperately, her eyes shining with fear and love.

Draco remained quiet for a long moment, shuddering at the various thoughts now plaguing his mind. Images of all the horrid things which could be wrought upon her, thus hurting him, flashed through his mind. He pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the present situation.

"I'll take you away."

His breathless words shot through her like a dagger. Exhaling soundlessly, she turned around to meet his usually guarded eyes.

"What?" she asked, just wanting clarification; had she really heard him right?

"Whether our side wins or not, I'll take you away. I'll take you where we don't have to deal with the chaos our side brings or the danger Potter's does. It'll be me and you, the way it was intended—the way things were meant to be. I'll take you somewhere safe."

Hermione shook her head, unsure whether all of it registered the way he'd intended. Was he really offering her this? Was he offering her something she knew he did not—normally would never even consider!—want to give? Stepping toward him, rain dripping down every inch of her body with cold air freezing her lungs, she rubbed her hand against his chilly cheek.

"Y-you'd do this?" she asked meekly.

Without muttering one word, he gave her his answer. Most would have missed it given his expression nearly always lacked any sign of emotion, but nobody knew him like she did. Nobody knew the Draco beneath the outer sneer and lovely flesh. They knew nobody would win, but if they stayed together, remained one with each other, they'd at least have a fighting chance.

Three days...

Three days until they would know the outcome.

Three days until everyone would know the side Hermione Granger was on.

* * *

A/N: As always, tell me what you guys think. I know everyone has been waiting for this chapter patiently and I thank you all for that. As for my other story 'A Dream Worth Keeping' - I'll definitely be continuing it. Curse the person for thinking it was copied. I did nothing wrong so I'll be continuing this story as well as that one. Give me a few days to finish the next chapter. Again, thank you to all the supportive people who wished me well. I appreciate you all so much!! 

Also, be prepared readers - the war is quickly approaching in the story. I'm going to warn you all that two main characters WILL die. I know I'm required to kill off one as part of the challenge, but I'm going to drop a bomb - I'm killing off at least two. I am not saying who or when exactly in the war it will happen, but be prepared for it.

Please note that I've got finals this week and next week (yay me!) so I'm going to do my best to update as much as possible. I hope you all will bear with me :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	8. Final Days of Virtue

A/N: Please take a look at the story 'Everything to Lose' by Heptagon - I promise you won't regret it!!

Alright, Happy reading!!

* * *

**Final Days of Virtue - Chapter 8**

After sneaking off after classes, directly before nightfall, Draco made his way to Malfoy Manor to have dinner with his parents. The diligent house-elves raced around the dining room, placing the large dishes and delicious fodder all over the chestnut table. Draco remained quiet, waiting for the questions to spark, most likely after the actual dinner.

Just as he expected, Lucius spoke up directly after the plates were cleared.

"How has school been, son?" he asked, almost sounding likely he actually cared. _Almost_.

Draco replied, "Challenging, as always. Seventh year has been difficult, but fortunately I am the top student, with only Blaise trailing me. I'm doing quite well, father."

Lucius shifted in his seat, obviously annoyed at the answer. Draco bloody well knew what he was asking yet purposefully avoided it, not really feeling up to par with discussing his relationship with Hermione, in their eyes–the mudblood, at the dinner table.

Clearing his throat, Lucius uttered, "Draco do you have any idea how much trouble this is causing me?"

"What exactly are you referring to?" he asked unnecessarily.

"That mudblood!" he barked, rising to his feet and shaking the table. "I have been dealing with Goyle and Zabini griping at me for my son's foolish behavior and I cannot exactly disagree with them. They've definitely proved their points with how you've been acting and you know what I'm talking about."

Draco stared up into his flushed face, his eyes blazing with a mixture of severe fury and acute disappointment. Draco would have laughed, beyond his father's physical punishments at this point, but he knew the situation needed to be discussed. _Might as well get it over with now_.

"If you're referring to Hermione—"

"I am referring to the mudblood. Tell me what the hell is going on between you two," he hissed, sitting back down in his lofty seat. "I am not interested in you beating around the bludger, but instead just want you to tell me."

"What is there to tell?" Draco asked, his body shaking with anger over his father's harsh name calling of his beloved. "Hermione and I are...well, we're together and I don't see the problem. She is on our side, after all."

Though Draco reasoned well with an almost obvious answer (at least in Draco's eyes), Lucius was far from satisfied. In the next instant, he was shaking the table as his mounting angered toppled over; "How dare you say that?! The mudblood is no more on our side than anyone else. Certain people may trust her, but I sure as hell don't."

"The Dark Lord does!" fired Draco.

"The hell he does!" yelled Lucius right back. "Are you kidding me? Do you honestly believe that he has any faith in that mudblood bitch?!"

Draco looked mad enough to kill and his frame of mind, he probably would have had it been anyone other than his father standing before him.

Narcissa's chest rose and fell rapidly, the intensity of the situation scaring her half to death. She stared with wide eyes at her husband and son, both wizards capable of incredible things, looking at each other with near hate. In her mind, she was completely torn at who to side with; both parties were correct on some level. Her husband definitely knew a thing or two about the Dark Lord, much more than either her or their son, and in so meant he probably was spot-on regarding what Voldemort thought about the ruddy Granger girl. The silly little thing already caused more problems than her value. For all they knew, Hermione's loyalty fell more toward the light side, the side she'd always known, rather then their own. On the other hand, the girl spent over a year with nobody for company other than her son. Hermione listened to him, learned from him, and damn near lived with him for over a year, a long time for her to realize the mortality of the light side and the future triumph of the dark. Obviously she felt something for Draco and who could blame her with Draco's God-given looks? Narcissa had always been thankful an incredible appearance seemed to befall in the Malfoy family. Like a lucky star, Draco had been blessed with angel-like coloring framed by chiseled features. Hermione easily could fall for him under the circumstances, especially if she honestly fell in alliance with their cause. If her son fell in love, and Narcissa fully believed and supported all things surrounding love, then she encouraged Draco in defending the honor of his beloved, even if it meant defending the Granger girl against her own husband.

However, the conversation ensuing revolved around father and son, withholding Narcissa from inserting her own opinion in. Draco and Lucius probably could have used Narcissa's input from the moment it started, but the men did not seem to care about what she thought.

"Hermione is fighting for our side and I'm done with hearing you bedevil her like some common house-elf. I'm sick of this father!" barked Draco, his normally pale skin flushed into a crimson hue.

_Damn you, father! Bloody evil git has caused me nothing, but problems since birth. I'm so over this_...

"Why do you insist on defending her over everything?" asked Lucius coldly, his voice dripping with distaste. "I hardly remember you saying similar things when it came to any of the Slytherin girls you dallied with."

"The Slytherin girls put together can't even equal one of Hermione. She is more intelligent, more beautiful, more courageous, and sure as hell more loyal to any of us—"

"She is loyal only to you!" barked Lucius, knocking his chair backwards.

"I swear to Merlin—"

"ENOUGH"

Four eyes, two grey metal and two icy blue, shot over toward the blonde woman who looked madder than a hatter. For the first time, Narcissa yelled at the two most important men in her life. Draco appeared startled while Lucius looked perturbed; she'd never raised her voice at him like that before.

"I have been listening to this argument for far too long. The Granger girl is on our side, whether you like it or not Lucius. She is in the midst of proving herself to be a strong supporter of our side and I wish you'd see and understand that."

Most men would cower down if their wife, a normally quiet woman, sparked off like a mother toward her tangent throwing three-year-old; but Lucius did not associate himself with most men nor did he tolerate being referred to as one. So he did not recoil sharply from his angry wife and instead opted for standing tall and remaining abnormally quiet.

"Now as for you," she began, turning her attention to Draco, "I understand that you feel something for this girl—"

"I love her," he interjected tersely.

"Alright, I understand that you _love _this girl, but you cannot keep doing this to us or yourself."

"What are you talking about?" asked Draco blankly.

Narcissa sighed, "You were born into a family of high importance and with the importance came a role. You are suppose to honor your family and our cause first. Now, unless this girl is a part of the family, you put what the Dark Lord wants first."

"What if I want her to be a part of the family?" Draco did not look up when he asked the question. If he had, he would have seen a look of complete incredulity on both of their faces.

0000000

Hermione paced her room for several minutes. Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into a full day. Hermione literally spent one of her remaining three days of complete virtue pacing a hole into her bedroom floor. Pavarti and Lavender tried to coax her into leaving during various times of the day, insisting she needed something inside of her stomach, but she refused and turned them away. After they left she went back to pacing.

And pacing...

And pacing...

0000000

Draco searched the halls of Hogwarts like a bogart searching for fear. He desperately needed to speak with Hermione and to hold her until the sun came up. The conversation between his parents took a toll on him making Hermione seem like the best remedy.

He knew she'd been pacing that morning (or so he heard through the gossip train of Hogwarts during morning breakfast), but he did not know what became of the poor girl. He could not exactly go to Gryffindor tower so he relied on someone who would be able to find her—

"Weasley," drawled Draco, standing behind the short redhead. "I need to talk to you."

"About?" she asked, turning around to face him. He noticed a chagrined smirk on his face yet found it almost appealing. At least it was expected.

Draco ran his left hand through his silvery hair before he said, "I'm looking for Granger. Do you know where she is?"

"May I ask why?" she inquired without any intention of giving him an answer.

"Blaise mentioned something to me regarding her workload and said she was falling behind in Potions. As the student with the premier marks in the subject and the head student in nearly every other field, he thought I'd do well in helping her. I'm a busy guy so why don't you just tell me where she is?" He finished with his familiar sneer vandalizing his pretty face.

"She's busy upstairs. I'll tell her you came by if she decides to leave her room."

Ginny turned to leave, but Draco's voice halted her; "I don't care what she is doing. Get her ass down her now considering I don't feel like––"

"You know I really don't give a fuck about what you feel right now," she spat hatefully, knocking Draco for six at her harsh use of language. It was one thing for him to drop the f-bomb, but for the short and normally friendly (_well, friendly to everyone except me_, he thought gratingly) girl it appeared unusual. "Hermione is recovering from a year long absence and I highly doubt if Potions is on the top of her priority list. Now, if I see her, I will let her know you were looking for her. Whether or not she decides to act upon that is up to her. Good day,_ Malfoy_."

Ginny marched off down the hall, unaware of Hermione's presence around the corner. Draco turned and spotted her there with a small smile. With a short and terse inclination of the head, Draco followed her down the hall keeping a fair distance between him and her. Upon reaching the seventh floor, directly in front of the old tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, they entered the room of requirements, one at a time, to find precisely the room they were searching for; featuring a bed, a couch, a light source, and privacy from the rest of the school.

"Ugh," she moaned, wiping her hands across her face, sitting on the feathery pillows of the yellow couch. Draco could sense she felt as tired as she looked.

"You really could do well with some sleep before everything goes down," he suggested, taking a seat next to her.

Hermione snuggled into the crook of his arm, feeling, to Draco, like a place of complete serenity had finally been found. Everything seemed right when they were together; an absolute utopia. Nothing could go wrong as long as they had each other and remained that way.

Forty or so minutes later, Draco finally spoke.

"Love, there are a few things we need to discuss," he whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.

Hermione mumbled, "Like what?" Her voice sounded croaky and laced with the vestiges of sleep.

"First and foremost, we need to discuss how you're approaching the battlefield. I'd prefer you to stay off the field, safe with my mother, but I am not naive enough to believe you'd be willing to do that."

"Good," she snapped, "cause I'm not."

"Fine. Then how are you going to approach the field?" he asked dully, absentmindedly rubbing her left shoulder.

Hermione thought for a moment, finally uttering, "I'm going to fight next to you. I'm going to be there from the moment the first spell is launched."

"Do you think that's wise?"

Hermione's brow formed a 'V', furrowing in confusion. "I don't understand," she muttered lamely.

"It's an easy question, Hermione. Do you think it's wise to show yourself at the battlefield like that. Just to abruptly show up on our side, divided by an invisible line for maybe a mere five minutes before the killing curses are flying through the air? Do you think it's wise to alert everyone on Potter's side, including Potter himself, a man out for blood, that you're now fighting for the Dark side?"

"Then what do you propose I do? Show up on Potter's side and have everyone think I've lied or reverted back to his? I can't win in anything I do. If I fight here, I'm hated there. If I fight over there, I'm hated here. I can't win." Her last words were quiet; defeated.

Draco abruptly faced Hermione and pulled her into a fierce kiss, wrapping his arms around her petite body. He pressed her down into the couch, already inching up pieces of the clinging material on her body. Breaking away from her lips, trailing soft kisses down her collarbone and neck, he whispered, "I trust you. It's all that matters."

Those words changed Hermione's mood.

"What?" she asked, no longer aroused by Draco's lustful caresses.

He retorted with an unintelligible reply, too busy with feeling her up to speak clearly. Hermione, nonetheless, wanted an answer and pushed him back. He looked bewildered at this.

"Did you just say that it's okay if you trust me because that's all that matters?" Her question sounded like it was filled with acerbity, but she evidently wanted an answer.

"Hermione I don't want to think about this right now—" he began, but Hermione cut him off quickly.

"Well we have to," she hissed bleakly. "Damn it, you keep saying you trust me and that's all that should matter. Well, just in case you truly believe that, your opinion is not the only one that matters!"

She pushed his arm away, allowing herself to sit up off the couch where she resumed the pacing she'd been doing for most of the day in her bedroom. "You keep coming up with that as an excuse for me not having any allegiance with anyone on our side and yet I don't see that as something to comfort me right now. Truth be told, it did very little to comfort me the first time you said it."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he hissed, sounding more pissed off than she'd heard him in a long while; "I seem to remember you saying all of this was about my love. The only reason you were going to fight was because of me and now suddenly my love doesn't seem to be enough. I don't know what the hell to do about you anymore!"

"I do love you Draco and I truly want to go the distance with you. I want to marry you and have lots and lots of little Malfoy brats with you, but Merlin...I'm scared! I'm really scared that I'm going to walk on that battlefield and die or worse...you'll die and leave me here in this chaotic abyss. I don't think I could take losing you..." She broke off, beginning to lose battle with the impending tears which wanted to fall. _I won't cry! Crying is for the weak and I am NOT weak!_

"Hermione you're not going to lose me. But...you knew what you were getting yourself into. You knew this war would mean risking everything and yet you still decided to participate. Come on...you always knew this would be a possibility," Draco said sensibly, almost bluntly harsh, in a soft voice.

"Oh yeah," she replied, with a false smile, "I forgot I said that. I forgot I was stupid enough to believe everything would work out. I forgot I was so asinine in how I thought everything would just be bloody peachy!"

"Okay...now you're just be condescending," he quipped. Had it been the right moment, his words would have been comedic. However...

"You think this is funny? You think this is some bloody joke?" she asked, so calmly it nearly scared him.

"Hermione I..."

"This is a disaster. All of this is some big disaster..." she breathed, sounding like she nearly was in pain.

"The only disaster seems to be us," Draco murmured, almost under his breath.

_Almost_.

"What?" Her near-inaudible voice sent tremors down his spine. Fuck, he knew he'd hurt her.

"Hermione..."

"Wow. I knew everything was messed up, but I damn well thought us...us being together...I thought we were the only thing that felt right," she whispered brokenly. "I guess I was wrong."

"You weren't...you_ aren't_ wrong. We are right and we...we'll get through this—"

"Just go." She whispered the words, but with extreme force and power behind them. Draco felt everything crumbling and he certainly did not want to end on this sort of note with her. Not like this; not when they needed each other more than ever.

"Hermione, I really think—"

"GO!"

And Draco did go, leaving Hermione in the room to sulk and gnaw on her worries for several hours, well into the night. Him leaving would cause much reflection in the years to come. What if he hadn't? What if he had stayed with her and just held her close, refusing to break apart until the morning came? What if he had done that?

Could certain deaths have been prevented? Unbeknownst to them now, there would be several unexpected casualties on the battlefield. There would be injuries rivaling Draco's near death experience when Potter had performed 'sectumsempra' a year prior. There would be deaths and there would be pain...there would be murder. And at a time when they should have been clinging to the other for emotional and physical support, they argued. They were fighting over something which could have been resolved if either of them would have let their pride down for just one ruddy moment.

So in the years to come, yes, there would be reflection. One might ask the question, 'If I knew it was going to end this bad, why didn't we just leave when we had the chance?'

That would be the question, but which one of them would be the one to ask?

* * *

A/N: I am SO sorry about the long wait!! I actually had finals last week so I completely shut my brain off from anything unrelated to my studies. I lived and breathed my text books and notes for a while and this story was far from my mind. Then I got on break and my friends basically kidnapped me everyday, all trying to squeeze in time with me before they head back to their own colleges. Plus! My birthday is in a few days so everyone wants me to do things with them. Blah!! I know, I know - poor excuses, but it's all I've got right now. I know this chapter is short, but I personally hated the timing of it all. I wanted to jump right into the battle, but I can't - I needed the scene between Draco and his family and, as pointed out by _ChocolateVeela _(Thank you darling!), I needed an argument between the couple to ensue. The next few chapters will be better. And hey! I totally gave away what will happen in the next chapters to keep you guys guessing. Does that make up for it?

Oh - And I'll try to update 'A Dream Worth Keeping' in the near future.

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	9. And So It Begins

A/N: Thank you all so much for your great reviews! There are getting to be so many each chapter that I'm not sure if I can respond to all of you and manage to keep track. However, I'll do my best to keep up with it. Nonetheless, since I'm sometimes scattered brained about it, I thought I'd start to at least thank you all before each chapter.

_So special thanks to_: CrystalizedHeart, Blueberry Sparkle, bang on the head, Chocolateveela, ombeline, Silent-Serpent, SquishyGirl, Emmsi91, Isabella Heart, xmisundazt00d, silverlovedragoness, mary-pi, StormMasters, moonkazoo, hopelesslydark, TennesseeSweetheart, blackpurpletulip, InLove09, Lady of the Silver Wheel.

Extra special thanks to: Inappropriate-name and Ombeline. Your private messages were wonderful and thank you for my special birthday cookies (lol and M'nMs).

**

* * *

**

**And So It Begins - Chapter 9**

Scared?

No, she was not scared.

Petrified?

Eh, closer, but still not right.

Immobilized by complete and utter fear?

Those words did well in describing Hermione who sat on her windowsill, staring at the soon-to-be battlefield; her home.

Nobody comforted her over the course of two days, a time where she no longer thought anything other than despairing ideas. The outcome of her future, her entire life really, would be decided soon, starting in only a few short hours. On top of which, her love, her only reason for truly going on and fighting in the war, had not spoken to her since she told him to leave her a few days prior.

Fighting with him tugged at her heart, a piece of her already cracked and bruised. How could she go out like that? What if something happened and she never saw him again? The possibility had been jerking at her heart, sending her into a whirlwind of deep and distraught anxieties.

Turning away from the window, she spotted the chest which held the treasure her master wanted. The Sword of Gryffindor safely lain, ready to spear, and she had no idea as to what to do with it. Sure, she could take it with her and give it to her master, but why? Why when it felt so wrong? Like somehow giving it to him would lead to his death? It seemed odd for her to think giving _him_ the sword would lead to_ his_ death, but it just felt that way.

She knew her body craved for sleep, but her eyes refused to close. Sitting there and staring at the future unknown, Hermione could not bring herself to rest. On some intuitive level, she knew death would come.

But to who?

0000000

Draco, unbeknownst to Hermione, was awake and doing the same thing, only from the lower levels of the dungeons. He paced the common-room for well over an hour, finally subsiding to the couch after protest from his exhausted feet.

He was mad.

He was mad at Hermione.

He was mad at the situation.

He was mad at his Master.

He was mad at his father.

_He was just bloody mad!_

On top of which, the future of his world would be decided very soon. Even more so, Hermione and him were arguing. _What a great way to start everything off._

Draco looked up when he heard heavy footsteps heading toward the Slytherin commons, stopping short outside of the portrait. Suddenly, without much warning noise at all, Blaise walked into the room. The blond boy sighed and leaned back against the soft cushioning of the jade green divan.

"Expecting someone else?" asked Blaise in a cool drawl.

Draco rolled his eyes, muttering, "No. I was hoping to remain in here _alone_, thank you." Blaise ignored his emphasis on the 'alone' part of the sentence and took a seat next to him, pushing off Draco's feet from the edge of the dark sofa. "There are plenty of other places you can sit, you know?"

"I know," said the dark-haired boy calmly, "but it's so much fun to annoy. Besides, I think you need someone to knock your ass around right now."

"Why is that?" asked Draco boredly.

"Cause we're about to head into something life-altering and you're not ready for it."

Blaise's observation stung Draco, not because he was wrong; on the contrary, he was right on all sides. It was a subtle comment most Slytherins would have missed entirely, given their innate distaste regarding anything which required thinking. However, Draco and Blaise were not the typical, average Slytherins, nor were they typical and average altogether, so easily the former boy picked up the latter's underlining comment. That is not to say, in spite of this, he came out about it.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, his guarded eyes flashing angrily at Blaise.

Blaise smirked. "You bloody well know what I'm talking about Draco and do not pretend like you don't. Mate, you need to go talk to Granger. I'm not talking about sucking up your pride and apologizing—" Blaise knew all about their disagreement, as he had been walking by the classroom on his patrol. He did not agree with Hermione in the slightest, not like he ever really did, so of course he sided with his friend. Plus, sucking up pride was not something that appealed to Blaise—"but I am saying you should at least talk to her." Draco's stare did not shift, but his ears perked, meaning Blaise was getting through to him. "Do _not _go into this war mad at each other. If something happens..."

Blaise broke off, knowing the connotation came off.

"Nothing will happen to her," murmured Draco easily.

"And you know this how?" asked Blaise irritably. "What? Are you going to shadow her throughout the entire thing? The likelihood you'll even see each other after the initial start is not high nor is seeing her afterward. You need to talk to her and say—"

"What?!" barked Draco, cutting Blaise off and rising to his feet. "Say goodbye? Well, if that is what you think I need to do than I suggest you don't hold your breath for it. I will not say goodbye nor will I say farewell or cheerio or a hasty ta-ta. I will not say goodbye because that would imply something I don't want to happen!"

"You need to start being realistic. The chances of her survival are slim with everyone wanting to hurt her. When it's revealed that she is truly on our side then they're going to be out for her blood! She betrayed them!" hissed Blaise, his face reddening in frustration.

Draco wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms, but not at the expense of his honor. He would not grovel and apologize, he was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake. Who the hell had the audacity to ever even think a Malfoy should apologize?

"To talk, I'd have to say sorry and I'm not going to do that. If and when she's ready, which I'm sure will be after the fighting, she can come to me. I will not go to her; not a chance in hell." Draco held up his chin, speaking with firm resolve.

Shaking his head, Blaise muttered, "Fine. Just know that this may be the only chance you get. If she dies and the last things you said to each other were in harsh tongues...let's just say, you're as good as dead, mate."

Draco did not even get the opportunity to respond for Blaise promptly left the room after the last sentence had been muttered. The blond cursed aloud, pissed off at the world for burdening him with all of the weight which currently felt pressed against his broad shoulders.

It was not just that Blaise's words chaffed him, and yes they certainly did, but it went much deeper; on a scale he did not want to witness. For while the words burned his pride, they jumbled his heart even more. _What if it does happen like that? What if one of us ends up dying on that field and our last words were spoken in anger? What if?_

The question burned him to the core.

0000000

Meanwhile, some distance away, the man formerly known as Tom Riddle, smiled and rose from his large chair.

It was time.

0000000

Classes ended hours ago and Hermione missed all of them, something completely out of sorts for the 'old Hermione'. She knew they'd be in to check on her soon (either Ginny or one of her insufferable dorm-mates), but she did not really need to worry about it. Everything would be revealed very soon.

She decided her best bet was to just get ready, in appearance at least. Sighing, she pulled out the clothes she'd been planning to wear for a while. Hermione felt pleased with herself in regards to what she'd chosen given it had both dark style and practicability. This fit well for she'd be representing her side, hence dark, as well as being somewhat unnoticeable considering the hour they'd be out. None the less, there would be snow and it would be cold, but she prepared for it as well. Hermione always thought things through, being a meticulous person by nature.

Stripping herself of her dreaded Hogwarts uniform, an abnormally itchy bulk of heavy fabric—something she always hated through all seven years of attending Hogwarts, she met the musky air of her dorm. She gently pulled on a soft yet warm, as it had been charmed earlier, black turtle-neck, long enough to extend a little below her waste. She then dressed her body into black pants, also bewitched for warmth, which were long and surprisingly light. She'd be able to move and keep warm, precisely her intent unlike the others who were more worried about their weapons as opposed to attire.

Finally, after completing the obvious forms of dressing, she covered her feet with deliciously melodramatic boots. Made of leather, the shoes went up to just below the knee which felt extremely comfortable for her. She lifted up the two zippers on the side, making the leather seemingly melt to the fabric of her pants, just above her pale skin. Her thin fingers laced up the front, much like she would a corset, keeping it tight and molding the boot to whatever part not being hugged. She snapped the five onyx buckles making the boot fit–with comedic references to other materials–'like a glove'.

Looking over to her trunk, she bent onto her knees and peered into the contents. In the left corner, she spotted the covered blade. Lifting it up nearly felt like a challenge, like the knife weighed as much as Hagrid's Hut. Peeling the clinging material away, she dropped the silk to the floor and ran her fingers along the sharp edge of the dagger.

"Why do I feel like you'll be the death of me?" she asked to the object as though she expected an answer.

She probably would have stared at the blade for hours on end unless something didn't startle her. An owl pecked at the window and jerked her attention up. She walked over quickly and hastily took the note, opening up the crinkled parchment.

_We strike at nine, in complete and total darkness. Be prepared, be ready when the clock strikes nine, and, most importantly, bring what I asked you to find._

That was it.

Hermione licked her sore lips (she'd been gnawing on them for hours) and nodded as though somebody else needed her to confirm her decision.

It was time to go.

0000000

In the Great Hall, tension mounted for the older students and the faculty, all of whom had the sharp suspicion something was not right. It was not just because Hermione had not been seen all day nor the absences of various seventh and sixth year Slytherins; it was a common occurrence for the older years to skip meals and study; commonly they would get dinner later, down with the house-elves. No, it went much deeper than that, especially for the likes of a few key Gryffindors.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked a smiling Colin Creevey, seemingly unaware of his fellow classmates' gloom and mounting hysteria.

Green eyes shifted to blue and he looked at the younger boy, pensively. Harry ironically believed in lying only if it meant someone could live in their ignorance, something he never got. It was not the ignorance is bliss part that led to the irony, but the lying to others in order to keep them safe. He often times claimed it was wrong yet subconsciously, as if against his own freewill, always found himself submitting to give the same thing to others. Harry laughed aloud to himself before he nodded and submitted to what he claimed he hated; "Yes, I'm fine."

Harry's eyes moved toward the faculty table, looking up and down the adults. Most just seemed on edge, like the normally low key Professor Flitwick. The poor man's stubby hands refused to obey him as he tried to cut his dinner, narrowly missing the stab of a knife on more than one occasion. Others, normally the more reserved and less open about their feelings, hence Professor McGonagall, looked downright alert. Harry could not recall a time when he'd seen her with such a fierce gaze, including the times when he had seen her duel. Then there was the vicious, conniving Snape, looking just as stern as Harry's own Head of House. However, even though his gaze often times seemed to be a common regard, tonight he looked stricken, almost fearful.

His gaze drifted up toward Dumbledore who held the most unexpected and odd expression of all; one of complete serenity. The Headmaster appeared normal and calm, two traits nobody else (at least anyone who knew something was terribly off) looked to have.

"I don't like this Harry," muttered an anxious Ginny Weasley.

Harry stared at the girl, sighing heavily when he saw just how scared she was. The poor girl must have felt as bad as she looked for her appearance damn near shouted dread. She looked like a lost puppy in an alleyway, and a small pup on top of that.

"I don't either, to be perfectly honest," admitted Harry, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses. "I know something is wrong."

"That wasn't what I wanted to hear," she uttered in obvious acute disappointment.

"You wanted me to lie to you?" he asked with a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

Ginny shook her head and said, "This is one of those times when I want to hear I'm wrong. I mean I know I shouldn't say this, but what else could go wrong? Hasn't the worst already happened?"

As soon as the words left her pink lips, Filch ran through the door like a madman. The Headmaster rose to his feet upon the skinny, gawky caretaker running in such distress. Quick words were exchanged before Dumbledore, Harry's mentor, nodded slowly.

"I think it can get worse, Gin," sighed Harry. Ginny felt her heart clinch at his words.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, placed his hands on the table, and looked like he was about to reveal something positively horrifying; he was.

"Everyone, I need the first through sixth years to return to their common rooms immediately. Your Heads shall be there shortly. Seventh years, I ask you to remain behind so we can speak briefly."

Nobody moved initially, but after coaxing from the professors, primarily McGonagall, they scurried out with protests on their breath and confusion in their minds. Ginny eyed Harry, mouthed 'tell me afterward', before she finally left with the rest of her fellow students.

The remaining students moved to the front of the room.

0000000

Hermione heard an abnormal amount of noise in the Gryffindor common room and ventured down, only to check on the situation at hand. Hearing the various whispers and grumbles coming from the confused students, she knew the seventh years would be getting informed and it was her time to make an appearance.

Stealthily, she ran down to the Great Hall, just in time to hear Albus Dumbledore, a man she use to admire (_Use to, of course, _she reasoned in her mind_; no more. Right?_), sigh.

0000000

"Seventh years, it is with great sorrow I announce what our caretaker unfortunately just told me. I'm sure the Ministry will frown upon this, as they seem to frown upon most of the things I do, but I refuse to keep the information hidden from all of you. You're clearly old enough to know."

Hermione licked her lips, glancing over to see Harry nodding, knowing what was to come without being told. Harry knew on instinct and for some reason, Hermione felt sorry for him. _Only because I know he'll die soon. Right? RIGHT! Merlin, my own thoughts are bloody battling like a bunch of moronic second years!_

"I'll be blunt. Voldemort, sometimes known as the Dark Lord—" he only added the latter name, it appeared, after seeing several students tremble in the wake of his name being pronounced—"has come to Hogwarts."

Just as he, along with Harry and Hermione, expected, nearly everyone, aside from the three just named accompanied by Snape (_Fucking figures_, snorted Harry), collectively gasped. Dumbledore waited for the murmuring to die down before continuing; "I understand this must come as a shock, but he is here and has brought with him a powerful, strong army. I am not going to lie; they're going to be difficult to battle."

Hermione glanced toward the Slytherin table, looking for any sign of Draco. She wanted to at least see him, give him a loving nod, but he wasn't there. _So much for comfort_, she thought in annoyance.

"I am only telling you all of this because I am going to offer you an opportunity. Now, understand choosing to decline this offer will not be seen as cowardly nor some sort of betrayal. What I'm going to ask of you is something I want you to think carefully about. Unfortunately, time is of the essence here so we'll have to make you decide quickly. Doesn't make sense, I know," said Dumbledore. Though he spoke with a calm tone, the ones who knew him on a more personal level, like Harry and Hermione, could tell there was an anxiousness about the man. "I am offering you a chance to fight along side of us."

Again, another collective gasp. Harry stood tall, obviously no doubt in his mind what he'd be doing. Most of the students were glancing at one another, hinting as to which direction they were going or wanted to go. Nobody wanted to say 'no' if nobody else was; same with agreeing to such a thing.

_Is he bloody crazy?!_ thought most of the seventh years.

"I am only asking you this because nearly all of you are of age, save for one Slytherin student, who I cannot offer this to. Though, oddly enough, she is not in the room right now." The twinkle in his astute eye alerted Hermione that he damn well knew the particular Slytherin, commonly known as Millicent Bullstrode, a girl just shy of seventeen by a mere four days, was already on the battle field.

"I know this is short notice and you'll have no time to speak with your parents, but know this is essentially your choice. You all know all there is to know about magic and I am confident in each and every one of you."

Noise could be heard outside of the castle, the sounds of death eaters approaching. Like ice, a chill wrapped around everyone in the room.

"You have to decide fast. Those of you who accept, feel free to venture on up and grab whatever means you need in order to fight. Those of you who decline, feel free to venture on up and join the rest of your classmates. I ask you all to act as the guardians over the younger years. We cannot move you, but understand help is on the way and you shall be protected." Dumbledore nodded silently, giving them one last gesture before—"now I ask you to make your choice."

"I will fight," said Harry calmly, striding toward Dumbledore. Though nobody was surprised by this, the next one did surprise everyone...

"I shall fight as well." The shy, meek voice came from none other than Susan Bones, a short Hufflepuff who looked younger than the average fourth year. A Hufflepuff was the last one they expected to hear from, given Hufflepuff is not known for their bravery, like the lions and lionesses of Gryffindor or their near arousal for war, like that of the Slytherins. A Hufflepuff was just...there. The house one gets assigned to when they have nothing extraordinary to offer. Yet, there stood one Hufflepuff, daring to be brave.

After her being open about her courageousness, every Gryffindor stood up along with some Ravenclaws and a handful of Hufflepuffs. Most of the Slytherins were gone already, and the ones who weren't remained in their seats.

"Thank you to all of you, standing or not. Now, move in great haste!"

0000000

Hermione should not have been surprised to see Ginny on the battlefield, but slightly felt a tinge of shock. The girl had a defiant look on her face, chin lifted up and Order badge glittering in the darkness. The redhead trembled, but Hermione could tell the tremors came from coldness, not fear.

The others representing the Order and light side seemed just as fierce and brave. McGonagall, surprisingly, did not have her pointy witch hat, something as common as a cloak when it came to her. Though she wore all black, her red-hair, much like Ginny's, made her stand out like a moving target. Actually, every redhead on the field stood out. The clan of the Weasleys did little to hide their flamboyant appearances, all seven (Mrs. Weasley was left behind, far too distraught to fight; the youngest son, dead) stood tall, side by side. Hermione remembered hearing angered grunts and disapproving reprimands made toward Ginny, all the men in her life demanding she leave, but she refused to move (_this war is just as much a part of me as it is any of you,_ she had bellowed, cheeks pink from both anger and the heavy cold).

All the Gryffindors had stood up straight, determined to not look afraid. Their shaking hands and fidgety stances gave away their distress. Dean and Seamus looked like wide-eyed animals while Neville seemed extremely scared, grimacing like he had already been wounded. The girls, though just as petrified, did more to hide their fear. Hermione had the distinct impression Lavender had swallowed a minute-long daydream pill, bought at Fred and George's joke shop, given her musing look appeared a little off for someone about to face battle.

Dumbledore stood next to Harry, both men hiding their feelings; faces guarded and eyes glazed over like a gate. No matter, Hermione knew what they felt. It was not fear nor anxiety, but were just still. A look that says, 'well it had to happen eventually'. She knew Harry wasn't scared and Merlin-help him, he should have been. Nonetheless, Harry knew the end had been coming since he learned of the ways of the wizarding world. This moment, this battle, was bound to occur; _might as well get it over with_, he thought dully.

The death eaters were harder to read, just as guarded as Harry, the Headmaster, and herself. Unlike the light side, none of them were prone to wearing their hearts on their sleeves. They were lined up against one another, wands to the side, and eyes battling for dominance.

Like the light side, they were draped in dark colors, mostly black. Nearly every seventh year Slytherin, certainly those of the most esteemed pureblood heritage, was there, all prepared to fight.

Bullstrode, just as Hermione expected, stood by her mother, the two looking like dead rats in the snow. Zabini stood by his father, eyeing everyone up and down, even Hermione herself. Hermione hoped this would be her chance to prove to him just what side she was truly on.

Finally, her eyes descended on the only one she cared about in the world. Draco stood next to his father, eyes cast on Hermione from the moment of arrival. Both could see fear for the other dancing in their eyes like drunken fairies.

_Please, I'll do anything to keep him safe. PLEASE keep him safe. Merlin, I'm only doing this for him. I just love him...so, SO much._

Hermione looked down, away from his stare, and thought about everything leading up to this point. Amazed couldn't even describe her reaction upon finding the Order members there so fast (_I knew Dumbledore knew. I just knew_, she thought bitterly). Their arrival marked the beginning of the-soon-to-be biggest war the wizarding world would ever see. Several members stayed in the castle, prepared to throw themselves at anyone who attempted to try to hurt the children (and were currently trying to figure out how to break the charms on the floo network. Ancient magic kept people from just flooing into the castle. Nonetheless, they wanted the children out of there, to move them to a safe location like the Burrow), but most remained on the field.

Hermione looked up, pulled out of her own thoughts, when she saw her master approach. In a long, black cloak, red eyes piercing toward Harry, he looked like evil in the flesh.

"Well, well, well..." His voice caused Hermione to gulp thickly and most of the seventh years to damn near pass out.

"Let's end this Voldemort," hissed Harry, calm but fierce.

The Dark Lord smirked and nodded at the young Gryffindor. After a pause, he drawled, "As you wish. Young one, do the honors. Now."

Silence...

Silence...

Silence...

"MORSMORDRE!"

Every mouth on the light side dropped, save for Dumbledore and Ginny (even Harry's mouth fell upon the realization his BEST friend betrayed him; at that point, there was still hope in Hermione. He still thought of her as good), stunned to hear Hermione's voice scream the words.

The dark mark twisted into the slithering shape in the sky as Hermione walked over and poised herself next to the Dark Lord.

"And," said Ginny near inaudibly, her voice cracking, "so it begins."

The war had finally started...

* * *

A/N: FINALLY!! I've been trying to upload this damn story for five days!! My goodness, I was starting to get really pissed. I casually attempted it this last time, and fortunately for me, it worked. So here is the chapter! It has been written for a while and I've honestly just been trying to get it uploaded. Sorry for the wait and thanks for your patience. 

Oh and the whole thing about the redheads - I AM a proud redhead and I feel like we often times get the short end of the stick. I was teased about it growing up and now people can't seem to get enough of my hair (and yes, it's natural). Lol, so the very short excerpt about the Weasleys and McGonagall was fun to write - I don't think they should ever hide their hair!! Hehe :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	10. Crestfallen

_A/N: Hey all! I know, I know - it's been forever! I'm sorry, but my muse Grady (a quirky leprechaun) is still on vacation. I'm trying to get better about my updating habits, but please bear with me. More midterms and work...blech! Oh and I'll try to update_ A Dream Worth Keeping_ ASAP!_

_Again, I'm so pleased with the response from you guys! You're all so amazing and I'm glad to know so many people are enjoying the story. It makes it seem all worthwhile._

_Special thanks to: Blueberry Sparkle, CrystalizedHeart, Chocolateveela, hopelesslydark, BloodSoakedRose, TheSlayerettes, Emmsi91, moonkazoo, zoeyPie21, tigger2025643119, SquishyGirl, mary-pi, Lady of the Silver Wheel, TennesseeSweetheart, Aloralynn, ombeline, .chie.x.sieka., Celeste, and _especially_ StormMasters ('The Kill' definitely works for this chapter), silverlovedragoness (You're reading into it well), InLove09 (not conceited at all - take pride in your hair!), and xoxoBlackOwl (I love your enthusiasm!)._

**

* * *

**

**Crestfallen - Chapter 10**

After three hours, Hermione felt as though she'd been on a muggle roller-coaster, her insides turned upside down and over. On several occasions she'd been violently ill in the snow, disgusted by the sight of the various bodies littered on the ground, some friends and other foes. She knew the war would be brutal, but never did she think it would be so, what's the word...graphic? Grotesque? Bad?

Well, adjectives aside, Hermione's stomach had been in knots for most of the night and her body felt weak, like she'd been hit in the head several time with a troll's mallet. Her feet felt wooden, almost like two heavy logs dragging behind her. The icy blue material she normally called skin felt chaffed and haggard, wrinkled ironically like a dried apple. Hermione looked thirty years older than she was and felt much older than she looked.

The pink snow, littered with a rosy tint from the large amounts of blood seeped throughout the Hogwart's grounds, sloshed beneath her leather boots which made them squeak with each step. The cool device pressed against the outside of her right leg sent shivers up her spine, something that not even the cold night air could do. The silver object in her possession meant so much to various people fighting, not all of whom were still alive unknown to her, and none of them knew she carried it.

In the distance she could hear a loud voice booming off spells and heading in her direction, forcing her to stop midstride in order to think. Friend or foe? Friend or foe? FRIEND OR FOE?!

Unlike everyone else on that field, Hermione faced a dilemma she had not anticipated and surely couldn't have fathomed a year ago (oh Hell - a week ago!) involving the need to choose who was to be killed and who was to be spared. Since the war commenced, she had yet to actually take a life, per se, but she certainly used her fair share of dark curses and even one unforgivable on an unsuspecting George Weasley, from behind no less! Hermione certainly fit the stereotypical bad witch as she tore through the snow and outer rim of the forest, shouting off curses that would make her mother shriek (well, if the muggle woman actually knew the results of said curses, which by the tone and harsh quality of her hoarse voice would be readily apparent).

While she may have caused more damage than received, she endured her fair share. The spell in particular that took out much of her energy had been from an ireful Mad Eye Moody. The fact Hermione lived at all seemed like a gift, but...damn, if she didn't feel pain coursing throughout every inch of her body. She'd been knocked back into a tree, _hard_, and her back had slammed squarely into a branch. Moody, assuming she'd been dead based on her unusual body stance and lack of oxygen inhaling, walked away to pounce on another. It had taken her several long minutes before she felt enough strength to push herself up. When she did, her head swam with dizziness. Ever since then, she had yet to venture out in the open again.

But enough dwelling on the past...

A friend or foe approached, but she had yet to determine who it was. Deciding it best to look out for herself for the time being and if need be have the upperhand by attacking from behind, as dodgy as it is, she ran further into the forest, obscuring her body from view. Waiting, she clenched and unclenched her wand by her right leg, a nervous tick she'd never been able to stop. Her heart sank as she saw an admirably fierce yet naive Arthur Weasley running through the snow like his heels were on fire. Hermione's confusion was put to rest when she realized that a snake, long and slimy even in the cold, was chasing after the frightened redhead. Someone obviously had cast a 'serpensortia' curse for the snake did not appear to be backing off until the prey had been caught and disposed of. Only then could the snake dissipate.

Confusion became a thing of the past for the situation entirely when she saw Lucius Malfoy walking along behind the man and looking every bit the insane wizard she always believed him to be growing up. After spending a vast amount of time with the love of her life then she began to alter her opinion on him; but this man looked eccentric and outlandish, as though a mixture of animosity and amusement filled his very being at the sight of another in such obvious distress.

Arthur stopped in his tracks, turned around to bellow the same spell Hermione recalled Snape using in her second year to be rid of the snake, before he stared at the silvery-haired man before him.

"Don't make me take you down, Malfoy!" he croaked, his eyes drooping with fatigue and exhaustion. No wonder, really, given his stocky shape and thick robes weighing him down. It was no wonder he looked to be a borderline sleepwalker.

"Oh Weasley, such a pathetic excuse for a wizard. How is it possible for someone so downright disgusting, vile, and, pardon my taboo, _bloody ugly_ to be revered by the light side?" he asked sarcastically, swiping at a loose strand of his fine hair from his pale face. "Surely they must have found someone better than you? Then again, it's not as though your side has anyone worthy."

"Funny," started the shorter man, a small smile tugging at his freckled face, "I was wondering the same thing about your _family_. How do you stand the sight of your pug-faced wife?"

Hermione's eyes widened in aghast. _Did Mr. Weasley really just say that? Wow, the man has some serious balls for going off like that, especially too—oh bloody hell, this fight is no doubt over now._

Just as she thought, the grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy practically bulged from his head, filled with both mirth and fury at Arthur Weasley's foul comment. Taking only two strides before opening his mouth, Lucius spoke with rancor in his voice; "Any final words, Weasley?"

It was like some odd dream, Hermione thought on, as she witnessed the scene before while another played out from behind her lover's father. Unbeknownst to him, another fellow Weasley walked up from behind him_. Shit! What do I do? What in the bloody hell do I do?! He's Draco's father, but...I risk exposing myself to harm if I interfere and I shouldn't be doing that when the odds are unfavorable to me. _Even though she and Lucius were greater fighters than their opposed father Weasley and son, Fred in this scenario, Lucius would not have her back like the two family members would. Unlike Fred and Arthur, who would gladly give their life for the safety of the other, Lucius would be out to protect number one, even if it meant betraying his son's love in the process. So she continued to think, _what should I do?!_

Deciding Draco's love and trust in her meant more than all other things, she determined the best course of action for her love's sake would be to help his father. Without taking a step out of her spot, she pointed her trusty wand toward Fred.

"Stupefy," she muttered softly, barely allowing the words to be voiced but with a strong force behind the gen.

Fred, startled and not expecting such a thing, fell back unconscious without a sound being made. However, his lack of voiced expression did little to stop Arthur Weasley from going berserk.

"What have you done to my son?!" he bellowed at Lucius. His colorless hair flew out in wisps as he turned slightly, wand still trained on Arthur, to view the younger redhead sprawled vulnerably on the ground. A faint smile touched his lips while his prey continued to yell out in panicked rambles; "What have you done?! Fred, get up my boy! Get up!"

Lucius didn't doubt he had a wellwisher around, but he dared not voice it. He had the distinct feeling it was Draco for no other member in his circle surely would risk their lives to save him. If it was indeed his son then he needed to protect him as he meant more to Lucius than most would believe.

"Well now your own flesh doesn't have to witness your demise before his very eyes. Consider it a mercy upon you—"

"DIFFINDO!" screamed Arthur hoarsely, his wand trained directly at the eldest Malfoy's groin, his intent clear. Hermione's eyes widened in aghast as she witnessed the fight, flabbergasted at the man, who had at one time been someone she considered a second father, holding rage in his cornflower blue eyes. Obviously losing one son had been enough to last him a lifetime.

Unlike Hermione, Lucius prepared himself for any curse though he had not expected that one thrown in order to split and mangle the 'family jewels'. Nonetheless, Lucius did not flinch nor stand down. Instead, he flicked his wrist and muttered a simple, "Protego." The spell deflected and vanished in midair, a mere red glow disappearing into the cold night air.

"Tsk, tsk, Weasley. You didn't honestly think you could pull something like that off, did—"

"RELASHIO!"

Unfortunately for Lucius, that spell did manage to catch him off guard. Red sparks flew out of Arthur's wand with the speed of wild thestrals, hurdling toward him with fire. The only auspicious detail lied in Weasley's poor aim for the sparks landed upon his dark robes, setting them ablaze. Lucius immediately fell backwards in shock, his mind flogged by flames burning before his gun-metal eyes. Swapping at the blaze with bare hands and failing to extinguish the scene above his body, Hermione realized some sort of action was needed.

"STUPEFY!" She yelled, smiling when she saw Arthur fall down to the ground with a slushy thud. Without another thought, she ran over to Lucius and muttered 'aguamenti' several times until the fire finally extinguished.

Lucius rose to meet her eyes and smirked in amusement.

"I should have known," he drawled in a thick, haughty voice. "Only a Gryffindor would be stupid enough to help others in a time of war."

"I saved my love's father. Trust me, I didn't do this for you," she snarled, turning her back on him to walk in the direction Fred had traveled. "Let me guess, you'll kill him now?"

Lucius smirked, staring down at the unconscious man he detested with every fiber of his being. "No," he breathed with delight; "I think I'll leave him like this. Let him freeze to death."

Hermione scoffed, something about his words chaffing her, but she could not exactly realize what.

"You better think before you do something like that again. Sometimes saving another will lead to your own demise," he warned, walking opposite from her.

His words sent shivers down her spine. She felt the first trickle of an omen in his warning, foreboding her to perhaps listen to the significantly older man. Deep in her heart, she just knew his words were right.

0000000

"FURNUNCULUS!"

A startled and terrified Neville Longbottom dropped to his knees while wretched, ugly boils broke out over his gangly body, causing a ferocious wave of nausea to overtake him. Draco made a face while the poor boy became violently ill, disposing his stomach's contents into the red snow, the pus-filled sores growing with each passing moment. Once he finished, he rolled over and laid in pain, closing his eyes in hopes of the night turning out to be a vivid and incredibly horrid dream.

Draco, feeling no remorse, stomped backwards and away from the frightened boy at his feet. He could have posed more of a threat by mixing the charm with a jelly-legs jinx (which would have made various tentacles spark out from his body, something he did frequently when his father had been training him for this very day), but thought against it. _Let him suffer in ugly turmoil, alone in the snow_, he thought wickedly.

Trudging through the snow, he thought about Hermione and wondered where the hell she had gone off to. He remembered seeing her last about forty minutes prior, venturing off into the distant shade of the night. Wanting to follow her if just to keep tabs of her location, he started walking in her direction only to be swept up by Potter, both jinxing each other until Longbottom had shown up to ruin it. _As if the stupid bloke could have really taken me on, _he thought on as he rolled his eyes_; that's just ridiculous. Potter should have known better than to think he would have been alright when handling me. I can't wait to see him again just to inform him that he left his friend to rot and die, cold and alone. Oh yes, Potter will surely get a kick out of that one._

Now though, the fight was over and his mind raced to find Hermione again. Where could she be? A sick thought crossed his mind, wondering if perhaps she hadn't made it—_No. She's alive. I just know it. Hermione is the strongest, brightest witch out here and nothing has happened to her. Right?_

"I have to find her," he mumbled aloud, unaware of doing so. He didn't know it, but in the distance, she said the same thing about him.

0000000

"I have to find him," sighed Hermione, her legs feeling heavy and wooden.

"Find who?"

Hermione stiffened out of instinct upon hearing the cheeky, firm voice behind her. She knew the voice well.

"Ginny—"

"Don't even think about moving, you traitor." An almost hate-like quality she'd never heard spoken from the girl; to anyone. "You even think about moving then I will surely end you right here and now."

"You don't understand," said Hermione, biding her time before Ginny lost her cool.

"I think I understand everything perfectly. I damn well knew something was wrong with you even if Harry didn't want to believe me. The only one who actually seemed to think you were not who you claimed to be was Professor Dumbledore. He, like me, knew you were a changed witch."

Ginny moved around in order to face her, blue eyes blazing with a fiery heat. Hermione checked her up and down to take in her appearance. The girl certainly looked like she'd been through hell and back. Like her, she wore black clothes, the only light material being an Order sash she let dangle from the side of her pants. Her baggy, too-long sleeves had been rolled up and bunched around her elbows, her pale skin shining next to the black like a light fixture in a dark room. One of her shoelaces was untied and dragging behind her like a silent snake. Upon her face she held a single deep gash, the only hindrance mangling her normally beautiful, freckled-face. Then, of course, her most flamboyant feature and certainly her defining characteristic; her flaming red-hair fell lazily out of her messy ponytail as though she'd slept on it. Bedhead aside, her hair, though lurid, made her appear unruly and savage.

"So...how has your night been?" asked Ginny in the most patronizing voice.

Hermione decided to beat her at her own game and responded in kind, "I'm fine. I'm bloody perfect really considering I, unlike you, have had little trouble in keeping my face unblemished."

Ginny smirked, a sly half-smile pulling at the corner on the right side of her face. After a moment, she asked, "Why? Just tell me why?"

"Why what?" asked Hermione back, hoping to distract her long enough until she could figure out a way out of this mess. She could hardly think at all, overwhelmed with a feeling of heavy fatigue.

"Why change sides? I mean...I could understand if it was to change over to our side and—"

"And I once thought like you," interjected Hermione sharply, her throat suddenly constricted. Ginny was managing to get to her with very little speaking conducted. "I once thought that everything was about sides; right and wrong; light and dark; good and bad."

"It's not?" asked the redhead, her wand lowering marginally.

"Well, at least not for me." Hermione looked down pensively, choosing her words very carefully. Temporarily there were no more thoughts about the war, about death, about the wand currently pointed at her; only thoughts about why she chose what she did. "For the longest time, I just thought I fought next to Harry because it was the right thing to do. I knew I'd fight to the death because it was the only thing that mattered. Now? Now I know what's worth living and dying for and it has nothing to do with followers, but merely one person."

"You fell in love?" asked Ginny flummoxed, her wand dropping down another inch. "You switched sides because you fell in love?"

"Yes," the dark-haired girl confirmed, nodding as to accentuate her words. Things took a drastic turn for them both. Two minutes before they were ready to kill each other, Ginny surprisingly more than her. However, their words appeared to fight against one another, like for a moment they were in a protective bubble and free to speak as they pleased. "I fell very much in love and it's really...the only reason I'm here. I only fight because I want the chance to live a life with him. I don't care anymore about what happens to the light or dark side. I only care about him. Just him."

Hermione licked her blue lips once finished, her face flushed from fighting a fever. Her body ached for rest and healing spells, but couldn't move from her spot. While her wand hand remained engaged in the hostility still lingering between the two girls, tucked safely in her pocket and unclenching at various times, her other hand came up to swipe at her brow. She felt so sick, so weak...her head felt so heavy...

Ginny noticed Hermione's sway in stance, but she did not lower her wand. Hermione Granger—the girl she once considered a best friend, a teammate, a sister—had fallen in love with someone dark (Hermione may not believe in sides anymore, but Ginny sure as hell did).

"What's wrong?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

"I don't know," admitted Hermione, feeling weaker with every passing breath. _What is wrong with me?_ _I can't...I can barely stand up straight..._

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong and she knew it. She felt around her body in an attempt to find the source of the problem. Ginny watched with fascination as the girl touched her legs, her arms, her stomach, her—_oh shit._ _Ow_, she thought grimly, _ow..._

When her hand pulled back from beneath the fabric of her lower back, she found her blue fingers covered in cold blood. She peered over her shoulder to see the wound herself and saw a deep, long gash pulsating red liquid and glowing a faint yellow.

_The branch. That damn branch nicked me harder than I thought. I can't...I can't see very well..._

Those were her last thoughts before she lost consciousness...

0000000

Ginny had left Hermione there feeling little remorse or sympathy for the girl (Her words about love and why she changed had stuck with her, but not enough to feel anything more than empathy - she understood, but did not agree) who laid sprawled in the snow. Her arms were twisted in an odd state and various other limbs looked to have been hanging on by a slim thread. That had been how Draco found her.

"HERMIONE!"

Draco streaked through the snow like a silvery blur and virtually threw himself next to his love. His breaths came out in frantic puffs as he surveyed the blue ice he ravished so often in the past year.

"No," he breathed, "No, no, no, nononononononNONONONONO!"

He could see her faintly breathing and knew by the looks of her skin, face, and slowing breath that something was ultimately killing her. _But what?! What is it?_

Draco heard a scream in the distance and battle cries beyond, but he had to keep his attention focused on Hermione. He could not worry about anything or anyone else.

"Don't you leave me. Damn it, hold on, love. Tell me how to help you!" he screamed, gripping her by the frozen shoulders and beckoning her to open those beautiful eyes of her. "Wake up!"

Draco didn't think to look over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. Draco didn't think to pull her to safety in the confines of the dark and sheltered forest. Draco didn't think to be quieter in the middle of the battlefield. Draco didn't think. He was in such a panic and rush to have her alive that he didn't worry about anyone approaching the couple as he pressed his wand to her chest in order to revive her.

It would cost a life.

Damn it, why didn't he just turn around?

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, DUN! Who is going to die? Who is behind him? Don't you just hate me for leaving you with a cliffhanger? --smiles evilly-- 

Please, all of you do me a favor and read two fabulous stories. One - _Everything to Lose_ by Heptagon. It's freakin' amazing so just go and read it!! Two - _The Mask of Allure_ by silverlovedragoness. The chick put some major Dramione drama into it and it is an excellent read. Please give them both a chance. I'd appreciate it :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	11. Silence

**Silence - Chapter 11**

"Hermione, please open those eyes," he murmured, pushing back the rumpled hair surrounding her ashen face. He ran his fingers over her blue lips, panic rising with each moment as he fought his inert mind for what to do.

_Think idiot! First rule, find the bloody source. This is from infection so you need to find the wound, heal it, and then warm her damn body! You can't let damage to further ensue by exposure so hurry up..._

Draco, accordingly, began to search for whatever was drawing her life source away from him. He pulled up her shirt and scowled at the bruises marking her flesh. He owned Hermione, her body, mind, and soul, and to see such welts on his property pissed him off worse than any other covetous feeling or chloric situation he'd ever felt or been involved with. The contusions and bumps marked up her lovely, near-flawless skin to something he didn't even recognize.

"I swear I'll kill any sorry son-of-a-bitch who thinks to do such things to you again," he murmured to her, brushing her cheek with his bloody hand.

Afterward, he put his attention back to finding her injury. Whatever it was, he figured it would require spells he was unfamiliar with. Sure, their sixth and seventh years had brought upon basic knowledge of healing, but none, as he despairingly figured, that could heal her. Not to mention, his line of work in the Dark Lord's ranks did little to prepare for this sort of thing. He had been trained to kill, not to heal.

He ran his fingers along her ribs, making sure each one was steadily in place, not jabbing her internally. His fingers slid across her stomach with grace, running over her legs to check for broken bones and other possible damage. Finding nothing of the sort, his hands ran back up and slipped behind her back, stopping short when he felt, with a sick dread, moisture—

"Blood," he whimpered, pulling his right hand back to observe the crimson liquid falling down his arms. "No...no, no, no, no—NO! Hermione, I won't let you go!"

It was then when a sudden, though slightly superfluous, anger washed over him. He was pissed at Hermione beyond all reason in that moment.

"Damn it! What have you done to me?!" he asked, staring at her closed lids with a fiery heat. "I liked being the way I was. What am I saying—I loved being that way! I loved only worrying about myself. I didn't have to care about anyone other than me and it was so bloody easy. I knew I was going into battle and that was fine as long as I only had to worry about myself. Then you came along," he hissed, gesturing to her as though she could actually see his movements, an accusatory signal.

"I don't want to be in love!" he barked, throwing himself over her and planting his hands on either side of her head; "but Merlin help me, I am. I am in love with you, Hermione, and I...I WILL NOT LET YOU GO!"

Suddenly, belying his angered voice, he gently turned her on her right side, allowing him complete access to her bloodied back. If he thought she felt bad then he received a rude awakening; nothing could compare to the sight before him.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, touching her upper back to check for other injuries. Every bit of her flesh was ice, numb even to his own touch, like he could feel her pain. He ripped off his own cloak, ignoring the cold clamping down on his abnormally pale skin, and balled up the material before he gently lifted her head, letting her luscious curls slip through his fingers, and laid her upon it as means of a pillow.

He followed up by whispering every healing spell he could think of, not caring on his life what was occurring behind him. All he knew was he had to save her. If she died there on the battlefield, cold and blue in his arms, he would die as well. Draco Malfoy, notorious Slytherin prick, who once claimed he would only care for himself, was dead in love with this girl. Losing her would be losing himself.

"Damn it, Hermione, I need you to wake up. WAKE UP!" he bellowed, voice tinged with anger and slight despair.

Slowly but surely, Draco watched the spells heal her back, not fully, but enough to eliminate the foreseeable death in her near future. The branch had done damage, yes, but it was repairable. Now, the matter at hand was no longer her back, a deep gash still spread across her blue skin, but just that - her skin was still blue!

"I have to get you warm, baby," he murmured, more to himself than her. _Think! THINK! You know this. How do I create heat? _And then it hit him like a bludger in the gut.

"ACCIO!" he bellowed, holding out his hand to retrieve several branches. They piled into his palm, scraping his arms and grating his face in the process, but that was the least of his problems. Throwing them onto the ground, he buried himself into the snow and began to dig, building a large fire around them. Once the branches were set up, he pointed his wand into the center where he planned to set the fire.

"Incendio!" he hissed, watching the sparks fly out of his wand to set the branches ablaze. Immediately, like an ocean tidal wave splashing on the rocky banks of the surrounding beach, a flood of heat swarmed his face and body. Draco turned to Hermione and drew her in his arms, crawling on his knees to get closer to the fire.

"Sweetheart, please open your eyes. _Please_, Hermione," he whimpered, dropping his face into her astoundingly (still) sweet-scented hair and just breathed her in. "Hold on, love. Just hold on. Please, don't leave me. Don't make me go on alone..."

0000000

Entirely consumed with the safety of Hermione, Draco did not even notice somebody creeping up behind him. He didn't notice the shadow of a tall man circling around them. He didn't see Jordan Lee standing upright with an angry scowl, eager to repay Hermione for the mistreatment of his closest friends.

_How dare she hurt them, _he'd shouted, furiously, when he first had found George, later coming across Fred_; how dare she for one second think to hurt my best mates and try to get away with it?! Not bloody likely._

What's more, like his best friends and the other members of the Order, he was out for her blood strictly because she'd betrayed them all.

_TREASON! _

_TREASON! _

_TREASON! _

_THE BITCH!_

So he had followed her, watching her as she confronted Ginny and then had been left to die in the snow. Of course, he'd cocked his head to the side when he witnessed Draco Malfoy hunch over her in a state of mounting hysteria unfamiliar coming from him. Watching in a dazed fascination, he observed Draco speak to her - though he couldn't hear the words exchanged - in haste, held her throughout the whole ordeal, passed his wand over her body as if to heal her, and then summoned some loose wood from the forest in order to create a fire for the two. This didn't change his resolve; he was still going to kill her. If Malfoy got in his way it only heightened the victory, but damn it if he was going to let the bitch get away with anymore crimes.

He moved forward, out of the brush, moving with agility most would never have dreamed belonged to him. Having been friends with the Weasleys, he learned how to be stealthy yet still maintained a degree or two of clumsiness. Now, he moved through the snow as though he were a feather simply gliding along the air, ice-skating on a clear, frozen pond. He moved so well that Malfoy, still focused on the bitch, didn't notice him.

Jordan pulled out his wand made of mahogany and containing the hair of rabbit, pointing it directly at Malfoy as means of eventually getting to his prize.

Then things happened very fast.

0000000

"Bloody hell," swore an exhausted Blaise Zabini, dragging his feet through the dirty and bloody snow. He just dueled a surprisingly talented Alicia Spinnet, a fight which had lasted a solid ten minutes, neither willing to go down.

In the end, Blaise managed to catch the girl off guard and accio'd her wand before she even realized the situation. Being a death eater, he gave little consideration to the defenseless girl before he shouted 'AVADA KEDAVRA!' and walked away, not throwing her another glance.

From there, he moved slowly along the outskirts of...come to think of it, he didn't know where he'd gone off to. He'd been so caught up with fighting one after the other that he didn't realize just how off course he'd drifted. The fighting seemed to be dying down, various bodies and carnage littered around him on all sides from every angle imaginable. Most of the snow was no longer white, but marred with a red liquid. Along with this grotesque sight came the absolute foulest smell to ever enter his nose. It was a mixture of old sweat, sour pumpkin juice (many of the victims had vomited during the duration of their dueling), and corpses - a smell he knew would haunt him forever.

Vile.

Disgusting.

Death.

Blaise felt about ready to collapse, but he held himself firm, determined to remain true to his cause until Potter fell and the light side dispersed.

Out of nowhere, Vincent Crabbe emerged baffling Blaise completely. _The bloody bloke is still alive?! How in the hell is someone as incompetent as him still breathing?_

His question was answered when he saw a burly Gregory Goyle and a gaunt Terrence Higgs, a former Slytherin with a little brain power unlike his comrades. _Higgs must be casting while Crabbe and Goyle are the muscle - idiots. Self-preservation, I say. Worrying about others is what gets you killed._

"Oi, Zabini? Is that you?" called out Goyle, Blaise rolling his eyes at the boy's complete lack of common sense. _We're in the middle of a bloody war and the moron yells out with no worries over his survival. I could have been Harry Potter for all he knows._

"Yeah, it's me. Any of you seen Malfoy?" he asked. Blaise may have been worried about his own hide, but if he did care for another person out on that field, it was Draco. Even though Draco started up a relationship with the girl he still did not trust, even so he felt concerned about his best mate.

"I saw him a ways back," muttered Higgs, looking over his bloody left shoulder. "He was searching for the mudblood, but last I saw of her she wasn't doing too hot. I think she was stabbed or something. Who knows where either of them are now."

"Which way?" asked Blaise pointedly.

"Back the way we came, but I wouldn't suggest heading over there. I saw a bunch of Gryffindors rallying and even the redheaded lass...what's her name? Gina? Ginny? The female Weasley was wandering around and firing off curses. Nobody seems to be able to take that girl down." Higgs sounded bitter, choosing to not inform Zabini how Ginny had already broken his nose and several of his ribs only an hour before.

"I'll take her down and how. You idiots just start heading back to the main line and let us men do the work," quipped Zabini, smirking when he saw a flash of annoyance surface in Higgs' green eyes.

"Be my guest," he snarled, pushing the bigger, paunchy boys in the opposite direction, no longer worried about their former dorm-mate.

Blaise set off at a quick jog, desperately hoping he'd reach his best friend before it was too late. _If something did happen to the mudblood, who knows what Draco is like now? Merlin, the guy would probably be out of his mind. That means...He is either dead from not being able to defend himself or killing anything that moves, blinded by his rage._

"Shit," muttered Blaise tensely, "Shit, shit, shit..."

Moving as fast as his tired legs would carry him, Blaise trudged through the snow, diving out of the way of a few Gryffindors who were shooting curses left and right. They were young and appeared frightened so Blaise disposed of them quickly. The joys of having seventh year knowledge - the dimwitted younger students never stood a chance against him. _How could a group fourth years take on someone with three years of knowledge on them?_

Returning his attention back to the matter at hand - _what am I doing again? Who am I looking for? Aw, shit, Malfoy! That's right, I still have to find him. Where in the bloody hell is he? And why in the fuck is it so cold?_

Hypothermia threatened to engulf him and the exhaustion he felt in his legs now shifted to the rest of his body. Feeling like molten lead had been poured on him, he hauled his ass in the direction Higgs had said. In an attempt to keep himself alert, her slapped himself hard on the right cheek. _Stay awake!_ He began to repeat in mantra, urging himself to listen to his own words - _Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake..._

After what felt like several hours, he finally spotted Draco and Hermione, laying in the snow, both appearing unaware of the outside world. Hermione looked dead and if she wasn't, she was on the brink of fatality. Draco, though shaking from the cold and looking sadder than he'd ever seen, a man on the edge of both insanity and utter sorrow, gave the impression he was relatively healthy.

Then he saw him.

He saw the idiot former Gryffindor walking up behind them like a cat preparing to pounce on its mouse prey.

Blaise didn't notice the woody debris around him as he stepped forward. He must have come down on a branch or something, anything that made a crunchy sound, because out of nowhere Jordan turned his wand on him. With grace he had not expected, the dark-skinned boy muttered a successful silencing spell and rendered Blaise mute. Once Jordan knew his spell had been effective based on Blaise's frantic hand gestures and furious expression, he smirked and waved, as if saying - _watch! Come and watch while I KILL your best friend! You Slytherin bastards deserve all of this. _

_Oh, shit! _Blaise thought sickly;_ Draco turn around! You bloody fool, just turn around and kill the wanker! DRACO!_

Blaise could not defeat the silence. His words would not come out and the Gryffindor was still approaching the near-swooning couple. He had to act fast, swiftly, and just plain...do something, before he lost them both for good. Even though he questioned Granger's loyalty everyday before this, on the off chance she was true to their cause it was best to keep her alive. They needed everyone they could get.

A sacrifice of one in order to leave two?

_Draco...you better win this war or else this will have been in vain. Damn you - DAMN YOU!_

Then, without another coherent thought about whether he'd made the right decision, Blaise practically flew across butchery ground, holding his breath, and tore toward his best mate and his friend's lover. His black boots stepped on various limbs littered on the ground, some of the fallen he'd even recognized with a feeling of odd detachment, hurling himself at them.

_Please, don't be too late. Let me get there before the idiot speaks. Let me get there in time. Please, don't be too late. Don't be too late. Don't be too l—_

Blaise threw himself in front of Draco right as a green light emerged from the former quidditch announcer's wand, blinding him.

And then the pain was gone.

And then the worries were gone.

And then _nothing._

0000000

Draco, though consumed with Hermione, reacted much like he did when he was playing quidditch. Someone with less expertise and skill would have been scrambling to figure out the situation. Draco didn't work like that - kill and then think bored a firm place into his mind. Knowing the green light had been directed at him, but somehow managed to miss, he turned around, fired on instinct.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Jordan Lee fell to the snow with a heavy thud; no more.

Draco stared at the boy for a moment, sweeping over his features and read an expression that signified a sense of daft unexpectedness, before he turned back to Hermione. Pleased to see some of her color returning and the blue of her lips dulling, he turned around again to investigate how the Lee idiot had missed.

_How could he have missed? I didn't see the spell deflect and it didn't go over my head, so how did it miss? How did it—_

"Oh fuck. FUCK!"

_Blaise. Blaise fucking Zabini. You stupid bloke, what were you thinking? Why sacrifice yourself for me? I mean...I wouldn't have done it for you, would I?_

When it came down to it, he actually figured he would have. Very few people he would die for, but Blaise would have been one of them. Hermione, surely, and his parents, of course, but Blaise..._Yeah, I guess I would have done the same. Merlin though...I wish you didn't have to do it._

Draco, unexpectedly, found himself seething all of the sudden, angry at his friend. This time, he voice his opinions aloud, as though Blaise laid on the snow in a daze, out yet aware; like he could hear him–

"Damn it, why didn't you just say something?! Why did you stay silent? Damn you, you could have told me to watch out, to look behind me and you didn't. Bloody hell, this is a mess. Why didn't you just scream for me to turn around?"

Just like the moments before Blaise's death, the answer to the question came out in silence. Just silence.

Feeling the need to treat his friend with a decency that nobody else on the battlefield had received, Draco marched over to Jordan, removed the boy's cloak, kicked him in the groin for good measure, and then returned back to Blaise.

"Thanks, mate," he murmured, before he covered him from head to toe with the dark material. "Thanks."

"Draco?"

The sweetest voice he'd ever heard abruptly halted his feelings of grief over his best friend, knocking him senseless really. In a moment of total idyllic bliss, Draco stood with his back to her, just drinking in her voice. The melodic waves of her words wrapped around him like a force-field, something so strong he could not be touched. In that instant, in that moment, Draco was safe and peaceful in just hearing her voice. The only thing greater than hearing her speak lyrically would be to see her, awake and healthy. Dare he hope? Dare he hope she truly was alive and well and this was not some cruel trick his mind played on him? Perhaps this was just a beautiful mirage and Hermione was still out; turning around would only bring unpleasant silence.

"Draco," she whispered more forcefully.

"Hermione," he croaked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

When he turned around, he was greeted by the most amazing sight - Hermione was awake and staring back at him, her brown eyes focused on his.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for the support you've given me. I'm doing much better now - though I'll never get over this - and trying to get back to normal. I appreciate everything that everyone has said. It means quite a bit - thank you. To those of you who asked who I lost - sorry, I don't reveal that sort of information on here. I don't know any of you (save for two) and while I appreciate curiousity - it's not really anyone else's place.

I'll try to update soon though I can't say when. This story is only a few short chapters away from being finished (probably two, possibly three - I highly doubt anymore than that, but never say never, right?) and I want them to be great!

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	12. The Final Breach

**The Final Breach - Chapter 12**

"Hermione."

Lifting up on her bloody elbows (he'd healed them, yes, but the blood still lingered on her light skin), her dark eyes gazed into his silver ones, a small smile on her lips. In that instant, nothing mattered to him. Draco didn't care that his parents were possibly dead, no doubt having met the most horrific demise by someone of the order; a Weasley perhaps. He didn't care that Blaise Zabini, his best friend since he had been a young lad, laid behind him dead and unmoving, all because of him. He didn't care that there was a good possibility their side would lose. He didn't care about anything save for the fact that his beloved, his cherished Hermione, was awake and calling out to him; safe.

"Hermione," he croaked again, falling to his knees beside her.

"What happened?" she asked breathily, rubbing her forehead, attempting to save herself from the current headache throbbing behind her temples.

Draco, overcome with emotion, ran his hands through her hair and pulled her face a mere inch from his own, allowing their breath to mingle. He held her that way for a long time, drinking in her beauty and letting the guilt he'd been feeling wash out of his system; sucking poison from a wound.

"You...bloody hell," he swore, frustrated in himself for the inability to form coherent thoughts. He damn well knew what he wanted to say. Oh yes, he knew and he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to pick her up and carry her off, getting them away from harm—away from the impending danger still lying ahead of them. This idea, of course, was out of the question. Now he could see her facilities returning to her, she'd no doubt set off to complete her mission. Well, come hell or high water, he'd help her get it done. He'd keep her safe no matter what it cost him.

"Damn it, Hermione," he said, pulling her body into his lap and burying his face in her hair. "I thought I lost you. Don't...Merlin, don't ever do that to me again!"

She pulled back, pinning his face with her small hands, staring at him with a wary look. "Do what? I uh...I don't r-remember..."

Draco no longer cared and grasped the back of her neck to pull her in for a fierce kiss. He could taste the coppery blood from her mouth yet it didn't hinder his resolve to feel her lips against his own. Merlin, she felt incredible. His arms snaked around her thin body and held her that way for a long while, content just to feel her close, feel her alive.

"Draco?"

He didn't respond, unable to formulate words to properly acknowledge how he felt in that moment.

"Draco, love, what happened?"

Gently yet resolutely, she pushed him back to meet his eyes again, trying to understand what caused him to have such a fright. She remembered the opening of the war to witness their faces..._oh God, those looks. _The looks they gave her just about broke her hea—_NO! I felt nothing over that. Bloody hell, what in the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Talk to me," she urged, rubbing his cold arms for good measure.

"You uh...Merlin, you collapsed on me," he blurted out, his words tumbling one after the other after the other, "and I thought I was going to lose you completely. You had a gaping hole in your back about the size of a snitch–" (_Alright, so I'm exaggerating, but I thought I was going to lose her! I'm allowed to exaggerate_, he thought hotly)–"and a temperature below zero!" (_Again with the exaggerations, but she's smart enough to know I'm in hysterics, right? I mean...the thought of losing her kills me so she must know actually being in a situation where I almost DID lose her would send me over a little bit_)–"I've never been so scared before."

Her mouth hung open, shocked in how she didn't recall any of that happening. She remembered dueling with some of the Weasleys and even getting into a scuffle with Mad Eye. Bloke knocked her into a tree, but after that...GINNY! She realized at once she saw Ginny which altered everything, turning the situation into a moot point. What mattered now was getting the Dark Lord the one tool he'd need in demolishing the chosen one.

"Draco," she whispered, haltering his babbles and forcing him to focus on her in the present; "I'm sorry I gave you such a fright, but that's over, love. It's over now and we have to remember we're still in the middle of a bloody war. Now, I've got to get over there to—"

"No," he interrupted, his voice powerful for the first time since she woke up.

"What?" she questioned, unsure if she heard him right. _Perhaps he was saying no about something else because he couldn't mean no to what I just said._

"No, you're not going back in there. I'm getting you the hell out of here!" Suddenly, without giving her a chance to protest, he hauled her up from her sitting position and started walking away from where the battle began. Several bodies littered the ground, eliciting a few muffled screams from her, bloody snow crunching beneath their boots and staining their–hers and Draco's–skin...it was all too much. However, she didn't give up her resolve; she couldn't stop without completing her mission. She shook herself away from his grasp, disentangling herself from him.

"Hermione..." His voice almost sounded like a warning, like he was to the breaking point.

"Draco, I CAN'T leave until I do this. I made a promise to him and to everyone else and I intended to follow through with it. Don't make me back out on this now—not when I'm so close!"

Shaking his head, he walked up to her and gripped her firmly by the shoulders, so tight she knew there would be bruises later. He muttered, through grit teeth, "I can't risk losing you again. Don't you understand that? It just about killed me and it did cost someone their life. We lost Blaise because of it!"

"What? How the hell did this—"

"My attentions were focused on you and I didn't see the stupid bloke...what in the fuck was his name? Stupid chap that always hung around with the idiot Weasley twins...tended to be the quidditch announcer and..."

"Lee Jordan?" she asked, slightly gobsmacked.

"Yeah, that's the idiot. Came here to kill ME and YOU and the idiot Blaise, gallantly as it may be, stood in the way and got himself killed!" he barked, his mixed feelings over his best friend finally dripping out of his mouth. "I uh...shit, I didn't want it to come to this, but I can't risk losing you. I've lost my best mate, probably my parents, and you're all I have. Please don't make me lose you too."

_That isn't fair! He's practically guilt-tripping me into all of this. I can't just LEAVE. What will the Dark Lord...think_...her mind switched gears when something came to her, taking her thoughts in a new direction. _Wait a moment...am I not fighting for Draco? I'm only fighting so I can live a life with him and now he just wants to take me away? Isn't this what I want? _Her thoughts changed,_ No! I made a promise to prove myself, to both the clan and to myself personally, and I intend to fuckin' follow through with it. I WILL get that weapon to him._

"No, Draco," she muttered forcefully, her mouth pursed and anger welling up to save off her impending emotions of wanting to listen to him; "I _have_ to do this. This isn't a matter of life or death anymore, about who lives because of us or who died at our hands, but about _us_ surviving. Even if you take me away, our treachery will follow, on BOTH sides. Do you not understand that?!"

Draco, though his eyes held resolve and his posture never shifted from the offensive position, truly had not thought about that. If they were to walk away, even though many of the other death eaters were no doubt venturing off the property to save their own sorry hides, the Dark Lord would surely kill them for abandoning the cause if he came out the victor. On the other hand, if the other side were to win, running would only get the young couple so far. They'd be found and killed. Hermione was right. What they needed to do was help finish this bloody war so they themselves could live a life away from hassles and molestation...possible death.

In spite of this, he didn't come out and say that. Again, his eyes remained steadfastly on hers while his hands gripped her upper arm tightly.

"I understand where you're coming from, Hermione. I do. It's, well fuck, just like Blaise acted–it's gallant, but I don't like it," he told her, pulling her closer to his once-again cold body. He sighed, a long, tired sort of sigh before he said, "I'll take it. Give me the Merlin-forsaken sword and I'll get it to him."

"No!" she argued, shaking her head in the wake. "That is NOT what I want! You think you'll just go do it and I'll stay here, knitting, waiting for you to return to me? I don't think so."

"It's more dangerous for you out there!" he countered, pale skin brimming in a pink hue.

"I don't give a shit, Draco," she told him firmly, removing her arm and pushing past him, stepping over the corpse of Madam Hooch, a woman she'd known from her second day at Hogwarts. It stopped her momentarily, startling her even, before she ventured further with Draco in her wake.

"Hermione please..."

Very few times did he ever plead and never did the word leave his mouth in a defeated tone. Hermione's heart broke upon hearing his painful words for that was exactly what this did to him; caused him pain.

"I can't..." he broke off, she unable to see him in his position behind her. "I can't lose you."

As though a leprechaun came up to smash his pot of gold over her face, spilling the contents around her feet, a stroke of inspiration wrapped itself around her mind. She turned around and walked toward him, kicking the odd yet charming cloak belonging to Madam Hooch out of her way, grasped his face within the confines of her once more cold, freezing hands, and kissed him fully; deeply. Draco didn't respond immediately but soon participated, pulling her tighter to his body.

Once she released his lips, she whispered, "Then we do it together. You and me—the both of us, do this together. Deal?"

She saw the flinch of hesitation and the battle of uncertainty occurring behind his normally guarded eyes before he succumbed.

"Deal."

0000000

"Shhh," he told her, stepping between the pits of snow itching to claim prisoners within their icy borders. His bare arm had been gnawed down, raw from the biting cold and the numerous butcher jobs done by assailants and other forms of nature. Not to mention her tight hold, one which involved spastic nails dipping into his flesh when a noise cracked or one of their wands lit up in alert of upcoming adversaries.

Merlin, he was tired.

_How long have we been fighting? A day? A week? A BLOODY YEAR?!_ he thought disconcertingly. _Alright, I'm bloody embellishing, but come on...it feels like it's been forever._

"Where do we go from here?" she asked, her voice so soft he almost didn't hear her.

"Well," he told her, hoarse and grating, "I think you may want to head for higher ground."

She jerked away from him, scratching his arm in the process which caused him to bite his tongue from growling out his pain. When he turned up to meet her face, her expression was one of acute anger and fear.

"That is code for going home, correct?" she asked rhetorically. Normally a sheepish mien would have flushed all over his face yet it didn't appear this time. Truth be told, he never wanted her there in the first place. It was far too dangerous for her, still he gave in feeling, to a deep degree, this was her war just like his. However, most of the major fighting already ended and all that remained was the last, most gruesome battle.

_Well, _he thought sharply,_ pardon me if I want her to remain healthy and safe._

"Let me tell you something, Harry James Potter, I have just as much right to be here as you do. I will not, _cannot_, go back home until this war is finished. I dare say you better not have the audacity to suggest I go home and bake a pie while you're—"

"Enough," he growled, through with her chastises. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, an unusual feat for her.

"Ginny," he said calmly, "I love you, alright? I love you so much and I promise that when this is all over...I'll come back and I'll marry you. I'll give you the most incredible wedding you could ever imagine."

Not catching his underlying tone, Ginny felt angry tears welling up as he continued to speak; "just...I'm not telling you to go home. That isn't my place as your leader because right now that is what I am. I am your leader, your partner, your workmate. However, as your boyfriend and fiancé, I beg of you to leave this place. Understand the distinction?"

Ginny nodded, her red-hair falling out in wisps from her slanted ponytail. Of course she always dreamed of marrying him and after dating him for the last year expected it, but when he proposed to her a week prior, she never imagined, even in her worst fears, complications would lead them to this junction. The situation, the setting, all still had a purpose. She had to focus and focus she did.

"I understand and I'm fully aware of what you're saying. Trust me, as your fiancée, I don't want you here either. Merlin, everyone is out for your blood. Nonetheless, we are not the couple right now, as you said in so many words, but Order members. We fight, Harry. Now, as my leader, tell me what the hell you want me to do."

Nodding, accepting her words (_wise beyond her years_, he thought admiringly), he commanded, "I'm going to head this way since I know Voldemort was last seen in that direction. He's probably making his way back as we speak. I want you to go that way—" he pointed in the opposite direction, a lighter, less murky area from the one he was about to venture into—"since my wand keeps twitching on me. I know someone is bound to come from that direction. Okay?"

Ginny hated the idea of separating from him yet agreed, understanding it was best for their mission. She reached up to meet his lips and embraced him briefly before she disengaged, afraid she'd lose her resolve, and strode purposefully in the area he'd assigned for her. Little did she know, Harry stood behind her for a long while, watching her walk away from him. She didn't know her leader had every indication that little fighting impeded her pathway, knowing safety was within reach in that direction.

He'd sent her toward the Order.

He'd sent her away from the fighting.

That was not two partners splitting up, fighting back to back in order to protect the other. That was a man sending his love to safety.

That was a goodbye.

0000000

"Well, well, well," came the thick, gruff voice of a snake in human form. "Harry Potter, here we are and face to face."

His red eyes brimmed on the border of pure and utter insanity, not that it really was far off. Bare head glistened from the melting snow which fell gracefully around them, an ironically serene scene enfolding them. Harry sighed, thinking, _Merlin,_ _you must be mocking Voldemort. Shame on you, _he thought, no rancor at all.

"You ready to take me on, boy?" he drawled, standing at his full height and towering over Harry even in the distance.

Harry showed no fear - Why? - He felt none.

"I'm ready when you are, _Tom_," he spat, loving the darkened gleam Voldemort's eyes flared at the use of his birth given name.

"Have it your way, Potter."

Then the really morbid, malicious spells erupted...

0000000

Hermione's gaze fell on The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the boy she considered as her greatest friend for half of her life. A boy who very much grew into a man; a man who currently writhed on the snow-covered floor under the Cruciatus Curse, in silence no less.

_This is wrong. _

_This is so bloody wrong!_

Yet, her leader, the one who..._well, he kidnapped me from my family, no? From my friends?_...taught her to fight against the people, the customs, and the life she'd been raised to believe in, could not survive because of this former mate. _Stay focused...what did I come here for? Yes, to bring the weapon._

_The sword, the sword, the sword_, she repeated in her like a mantra, deterring her eyes from the situation laid before her. Draco's hand squeezed hers, sensing on the intuitive level (an intense bond connected them without sight which relies on sense and touch) that Hermione entered an area where she couldn't handle herself. Excuse the matter of physical abilities (he knew she was a capable witch), but he sensed seeing her former leader battle her current one...well it was bound to make anyone a little jumpy, right?

Right?

"Draco," she whispered, close enough to be classified as a whimper, "I don't...I can't..."

"Oh," said the Dark Lord, sounding pensive, "What have we here? The son of some of my most prominent supporters, a strong follower in the making and, of course, my newest creation. Step forward. Now."

Hermione and Draco uncharacteristically hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the shadows and into the open, allowing their Master and an agonized Harry to finally see them. Hours and hours of blood, sweat, and exhausting fights glistened on their clothing and every exposed inch of their tired bodies. Draco appeared a shade paler than usual which was extreme given his normal coloring. Hermione gave the impression of pure anguish and turmoil had swept over her entire soul. Inner havoc. The feeling that the old, loveable yet bossy, intelligent bibliophile struggled to battle the new persona; the new, ferocious, in love with the former enemy, still intelligent bale. In the name of all that is Merlin, Hermione suddenly didn't know who she was.

_What do I do? This isn't right...this so isn't right. What the hell is WRONG with ME?! I shouldn't feel this way. I should be supporting him and supporting his—OUR cause and supporting everything I see before me. In spite of this apparent situation, I can't wrap my head around it and I need to get it together before I get both me and Draco bloody killed!_

_This isn't good..._

_This is really NOT good..._

"Hermione."

The urgency in Draco's voice—hearing his voice altogether—snapped Hermione out of her daze and got her to refocus on the current problems arising.

"Perfect timing," taunted Voldemort (more so toward Harry than to 'present company'). "You're just in time to witness me murder—" for Voldemort would take great pride in killing Harry, the word 'murder' seemed fitting in regard to Harry's impending slaughter—"the supposedly great Harry Potter. Come now, watch me kill the boy...but first, any last words you pathetic, vile creature?"

Harry seemed oblivious to the man's taunts, his eyes focused solely on one person yet managed to catch the part about last words...

"Hermione," he breathed, seemingly on his mouth's own accord, still twitching from the aftereffect of Voldemort's curse. Shaking his head and holding her gaze, fighting the unconsciousness that wanted to claim him, he said, "This isn' y-ya. This is NOT you! H-how could you...b-b-believe all the l-lies...they've told ya?!"

"I uh..."

"This isn't you! I know you, 'Mynee. I know the r-real you and the real you s'still inside...still waitin' for the opport-tunity to...to end s'madness. I beg of you, Her-mynee, come out of the darkness! 'Member what it means to be a Gryffindor!"

At this, Voldemort (who would have surprised the three adolescents had their minds been on the right track and not clouded with both their own problems and physical ache) burst out into a fit of laughter, nearly shaking the surrounding trees with his roars. Harry fleetingly thought it sounded like dying dogs in an empty tunnel, but that wasn't relevant. The point was he sounded crazy and borderline insane.

"Remember what it means to be a Gryffindor?" he mocked, throwing Harry's question back in his bruised and bloodied face. Harry paid no never mind and kept his focus on Hermione who heard every bit of his plea.

"Hermione, please..."

She figured her heart would explode before anything could really occur and wondered if Draco could hear the loud thumps drumming within her chest.

"The girl will not save you. Nobody will save you. The pathetic savior of the Wizarding World will die without fulfilling his duties...how incredibly fitting," snarled Voldemort, the most malevolent smile gracing his thin, snake lips. "Good-bye, Harry Potter."

"Please, Hermione..."

And then it hit her. It hit her just as the green flash of the killing curse left the Dark Lord's wand and savagely sucked the life out of Harry's once vivacious body. It hit her. It hit her. It hit her.

_Merlin...he wasn't asking me to save him. He wasn't begging for mercy. My God...he was begging for me to end what he couldn't. He knew. He knew I could—CAN end it. He put his faith in me. IN ME! Merlin, he was asking me to finish what he couldn't. Not begging for his life, but begging for the lives not yet lived by the innocent. He was begging for me to save them._

"Finally...after all of these years, the worthless boy who nearly destroyed all that I've earned and worked and killed for, is dead himself," voiced Voldemort, sounding more pleased with himself than anyone had probably ever heard him. An unusual uplifting tone brewed within him as he said, "I knew the boy could never win. I knew the boy could...never..."

He never finished.

His scaley eyes looked down to see the Sword of Gryffindor protruding from his abdomen, blood dripping from the sharp, pointed tip. Without needing to look himself, he sensed Hermione Granger standing behind him, a bittersweet smile touching her traitorous lips.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know...it's been a LONG time - well, for me at least. I'm usually much better about updating and I'm sorry. This story hasn't been the easiest to write, but I digress...point is - I finally got the chapter out and I hope you enjoyed it. There is only an epilogue left with an ending that I really liked...hehehe, I think it's pretty cool actually. Anyway, I just had surgery so I'm still a little loopy and for those of you who read my other story (_A Dream Worth Keeping_), I will hopefully update that one soon. I've put all my focus in this one lately and the epilogue should be out next week.

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY REVIEWS LAST CHAPTER! YOU GUYS ARE GREAT :)

READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

_Evil's Mistress_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.


	13. Epilogue: Stalemate

**Stalemate - Epilogue**

Draco stood behind her for a long, _long _time. Neither of them spoke, feeling on that familiar, instinctual level that it wasn't necessary. Both of them knew what this meant and knew it changed their lives entirely.

Now they were doomed - both leaders of the opposing parties laid dead at their feet. Harry Potter and Voldemort sat in the snow lifeless and...

Well, yeah.

Uh oh.

He remembered having similar thoughts about this type situation only minutes beforehand...

_...though his eyes held resolve and his posture never shifted from the offensive position, he truly had not thought about that. If they were to walk away, even though many of the other death eaters were no doubt venturing off the property to save their own sorry hides, the Dark Lord would surely kill them for abandoning the cause if he came out the victor. On the other hand, if the other side possibly wins, running would only get the young couple so far. They'd be found and killed. Hermione was right. What they needed to do was help finish this bloody war so they themselves could live a life away from hassles and molestation...possible death..._

Similar, no? Their side's leader laid dead in red snow, an expression mixed of both anger and shock mangling his already deranged face, and they were responsible. How the hell could they argue their way out of this one? Even if they were discovered by Order members before caught by their own kind, both fought for the dark side; one a traitor against the ones who bred and taught her.

Hermione's breathing had stopped the erratic movements and finally air entered and exited her lungs at a steady pace. This did not mean, however, she was calm. If anything, panic mounted in her mind with every passing moment.

"Hermione, I um...fuck." The last word had been directed more to himself, to the situation, than to her. Again, chaos loomed in his life and he didn't know what to do. How could he fix this? Hermione, his Hermione, the girl he claimed his life over to, just KILLED his leader. He didn't want to pretend even to himself that he knew what flashed through her mind during the brief period so he didn't. Instead, he decided the best course of action would be to talk with her. Maybe she had some ideas as to what they should do.

"Hermione, I'm...I'm really open to anything you might suggest. I'm at a loss," he admitted, shaking his head.

"It was never...Merlin, it was never about Harry using the sword to kill him. Everything was merely about the tool killing him; never concerning Harry, just the sword. He got it wrong...we ALL got it wrong..."

Before she could mutter anything else they were interrupted, the sound of crushing snow and panting gasps from around the bend jerking their attention in that direction.

The girl with long red-hair stopped moving when the sight of her fiancé attested her worst nightmare come true. Harry, her Harry, would never again hold her, speak to her, love her...she knew this and in one moment, she accepted it. It may have shocked her, but it was not unexpected. After a few minutes of running down the path of blood and ice, coming upon nothing other than corpses of old friends and enemies, she knew what her fiancé had done - he'd sent her out of harm's way.

She didn't agree, but she understood.

Hermione and Draco stared at her, no attempt to speak, when she muttered, "I think I always knew. I always knew he would save the world. A true hero to the end." Her eyes shifted to Hermione, undiluted bitterness spreading across her normally cheerful face, as she admitted, "I just never thought you'd play a part in his death."

"I...I didn't kill Harry," Hermione stammered.

"You didn't stop his death from occurring though, did you?" Ginny asked, almost conversationally; cheekily.

Hermione didn't respond given it wasn't really necessary. All three living people knew the answer to that question.

Ginny moved forward, falling on her knees beside Harry and taking his cold, blue hand in her own. The lingering smell, that Harry smell, managed to hold her tears back. She wanted to be strong for him. She HAD to be strong for him. Kissing his icy flesh for good measure, she spoke against his skin, briefly overcoming her sobs; "I knew this would happen. Nobody would believe me aside from Professor Dumbledore and yet I was right. I really wish I was wrong."

"Dumbledore didn't believe you," said Hermione, finding her voice again, "and I know this given I was in his office. I read these letters where he admitted to feeling _bad_ about the situation. He even felt guilty over what happened to me. What did he say again?" she thought aloud, tapping her chin and desperately retracing her mind's steps back to that day; "yes, I remember. He wrote something about feeling like a failure and—"

"_I'm attempting to keep it together, and from what they've seen, I have; nonetheless, I feel the strong need apologize to the poor girl. She did not deserve this._ Could that have been perhaps what he wrote?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. Surprised? Oh, hell yes; shocked? Incredibly so; scared? Very. Ginny Weasley somehow knew and she...well, she seemed to know more than Hermione did herself.

"How...b-but...how did you know?" Hermione gasped out disbelievingly.

"How did I know?" Ginny mockingly asked, bitterness and sadness engulfing the atmosphere as she continued, "I think, perhaps, because I was the one who suggested he write such letters. Perhaps I was there when he wrote them."

"You knew?"

At this, Ginny's gaze shifted given the question came from Draco, speaking up for the first time since Ginny had arrived.

"I've always known. I knew the moment she returned that something wasn't right about her," whispered Ginny miserably. "I didn't want to believe it and I almost missed it at times, but...I knew the way she smiled and nodded whenever someone said anything to her that she had changed. Not for the better, either."

Pressing another kiss to Harry's inert fingers, she forged on, stating, "Harry wouldn't believe me. I tried to convince him of Hermione's treachery, to convince him that she had crossed over, but he wouldn't hear it. He was blinded by the friendship, incredulousness overtaking his soul. He went on and on about how true Hermione was and that his best friend would never betray our cause." At this, Ginny's gaze shifted back to Hermione as she said, "Harry never doubted your loyalty for a second. Never; not once."

Sniffling and losing her ability to fight the impending sobs, she choked out, "I didn't...I tried to stop you, Hermione. I tried to stop you from hurting yourself and everyone else. That's why Dumbledore, the supposed idiot that you obviously took him for, planted those letters in his office knowing you'd find them. He never explained to me why he held suspicions of you coming into his office since I never would have considered you, even for a moment's time, to be that stupid and foolish. Nonetheless, you DID show up and you read them. All of those words, every 'A' to every 'Z', was planted for you to suck in and take to heart. I, personally, didn't think he should lay on the guilt so much and put more anger in it. No matter, since it worked anyway. You let us know what side you were fighting for, giving us a slight advantage in knowing not to trust you, and you remained in the dark about us knowing." Ginny broke off, laughing bitterly.

"How did Dumbledore know?" asked Draco, stepping closer to Hermione, feeling that innate protectiveness shooting his mind. "Hermione told me she put everything back."

"She did, but that doesn't mean he didn't know about it. Come on, I thought you both were smarter than that," laughed Ginny, shaking her head at their poor judgment and their unwise naiveness. "Did you honestly believe you two could outsmart Dumbledore? In the name of Merlin, you two are ridiculous."

"What the fuck are you getting at?" asked Draco, growing impatient and wanting her to get to the point.

"I'm fucking getting at how Dumbledore knew about this all along. There are charms placed all over his office, including on those letters, so he fucking would know if someone just wandered in and not to mention he knew something was missing. He knew you took the sword. So, needless to say, Dumbledore and I knew the entire time, Hermione. You may have fooled everyone else, but you sure as hell didn't deceive me."

Ginny swiped angrily at her auburn hair, pushing it out of her face and returning her attention back to Harry. No longer worrying over the situation (given everything had already been said), she spoke to them musingly. "You know," she began, gulping over the lump in her throat, "I was going to marry him. He proposed last week and I was going to marry this wonderful man. Idiot went and died on me, how fitting, right?"

"I uh...Merlin..." Hermione panted, not sure what else to say.

"I don't understand, Hermione, nor will I ever. Nothing you can say will ever make me understand. All I do know is that though my life is essentially over, I've nothing left to live for after all, the rest of the world will go on because of Harry. A true Gryffindor to the end."

"Hermione was the one who finished him off," growled Draco, pacing in the slushy snow.

"Sod off, Malfoy," snapped Ginny angrily. "You're one of the many reasons Hermione betrayed our cause so I don't give a flying fuck what you have to say about the matter."

"I'll bet," he quipped back, fighting the urge to scream out his own anger.

Hermione felt torn, not sure whether or not to continue talking with this girl or to run with Draco in order to get the hell out of there; she hadn't forgotten what she had just done and knew both sides would gladly love to slit her from navel to nose.

"I don't get it," admitted Ginny, pressing soft kisses to Harry's bruised face. "I genuinely don't get how you could get the sword. Harry told me that only a true Gryffindor can retrieve it and yet, as traitorous as you are, you managed to pull it out. How?"

For the first time in a long time, Ginny looked to Hermione for an answer much like she'd done countless of times growing up. For an instant, Hermione almost let herself believe that there would be something between, something good again; _almost_. After a second or so, Hermione answered, "I guess...I'll always be a true Gryffindor at heart. I did just stab the Dark Lord."

"Hermione, you can be sated by your deed all you want. It won't change anything between us," growled Ginny furiously. With those words spoken, she stood up, dropping Harry's hand to rest upon his unmoving chest, and launched her wand toward the sky.

"PHOINIXES!"

Hermione and Draco watched in awe as a large, red phoenix erupted into the night sky, a similar form of the Dark Mark. It's long wings moved gracefully in the air, gold and red colors filling the darkness with light. Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of coming home, a feeling which would soon disperse by the sounds in the distance. As soon as Ginny released the beautiful sign, an eruption of cheers and applause could be heard in the distance. Obviously, the sides were informed over who had won the battle.

The Dark Lord was dead.

Harry and the Order of the Phoenix had won.

"I've been waiting to see that since I was ten. It's lovely, really," whispered Ginny, smiling poignantly.

"Hermione we have to go," declared Draco, tugging on her arm and pulling her away from Ginny.

"Wait."

Draco bit his tongue, knowing the redhead's wand pointed directly into his back and/or Hermione's. He stopped moving if only to save the girl he loved.

"Who ever said I was going to let you go so easily?" she asked in a taunting voice. Draco placed a steady hand on his wand, but Ginny spoke again; "I wouldn't do that if I was you. Don't think for a moment that I won't kill you. You took Harry from me so why don't I return the favor to Hermione?"

"NO!" bellowed Hermione, facing Ginny with a look of sheer melancholy. Gulping hard, she whispered, "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry, Gin, and I can't begin to say it enough. Please, PLEASE, know that I'm truly sorry for this. I don't know what I believe in anymore, but I do know two things."

"And they are?" asked Ginny tersely.

"I know that I love Draco, that I'll do ANYTHING to protect him...and I know that while I betrayed him in more ways imaginable, some of which lose my credibility in saying this...I know that Harry would not want you to do this. He would not want you to become a murderer, not after you've already won."

Ginny didn't respond.

For a long while, Hermione and Ginny met the others' bleak expression, their chests heaving with rushing air (the former's in anticipation for a rejoinder and the latter's over the battle ensuing in her body, wondering what the hell she should do), hands fisted tightly over their wands. Draco's eyes remained on Hermione though his wand still twinged toward the enemy, hoping to Merlin she didn't attempt to curse his beloved.

The fear and anger and sadness and frustration and panic mounted and mounted and mounted and _MOUNTED_—

"We've reached a stalemate."

"What?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"We've reached a stalemate, you and I," murmured Ginny, dropping her wand. "Neither of us wins."

Hermione licked her lips before asking, "Then...then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you both leave now. Leave now, never return, and I'll spare your life," the redhead replied flatly.

"How the hell—"

"I don't care what you have to do to make it happen nor do I care where you go, just so long as it's far away from here. The Order won and your side has gone down making you my prisoners. Now, everyone else will be tried for their crimes and be punished accordingly. I'm giving you the opportunity to escape your comrades' fates. Leave now, leave for somewhere far, far enough away that I will never lay eyes on you again, and never return. If you do this, I'll make sure you're not hunted."

"Why would you do this?" asked Hermione.

"Does it fucking matter?!" barked Draco, tugging her along, accepting Ginny's offer without thought.

"I'm doing this," cut in Ginny, halting Draco's movements, "because you did, in the end, realize your mistake and fought for what's right. Now, I suggest you move...before someone in my family, chiefly my older brother Charlie, finds and maims you."

"Ginny...I uh..." stuttered Hermione, not sure of what to say.

Ginny nodded her head and whispered, "Just say it."

"I'm sorry...and thank you."

Without anymore words, without anymore exchanged whispers...Hermione and Draco were gone, leaving Ginny alone with her dead fiancé and dead enemy.

She kicked one of the corpses in the groin for good measure.

One guess over which one it was...

0000000

Ginny remained by Harry's side for about five more minutes before she'd been discovered by several Order members—Dumbledore, her brother bill (_thank Merlin!_), her father (_Oh, thank you Merlin!_), face dark with frostbite, and a tired yet anxious looking McGonagall. They stood beside her, ignoring the mangled body of Voldemort completely and focused on the distraught girl.

"He died...to save everyone," she whispered sadly. "I guess it figures, right?"

The group nodded in agreement except for Dumbledore, the one who did take a moment or two to note the positions both the former Dark Lord and the savior of the light were in. Even though the Weasley men and McGonagall met the scene with the idea of mutual killings, that Voldemort Avada'ed Harry after Harry had stabbed him in the back, leaving him to die even after killing his opposed, they didn't know whose possession the sword had been in before. Not Harry's, but Hermione's...so Dumbledore indeed found this particular positioning intriguing. Nodding to nobody in particular, he met Ginny's gaze.

"I guess...redemption isn't a total loss," muttered Ginny eloquently.

"Well said Miss Weasley. Well said."

0000000

000000

00000

0000

000

00

0

00

000

0000

00000

000000

0000000

_Eleven years and nine months later..._

0000000

Hermione Malfoy tapped her foot impatiently in the kitchen, arms crossed, and a frown pulling at her lips, anxious gestures taking over seemingly on their own accord. She'd been waiting for her husband to return home from work for over two hours in order to discuss their current situation, one of the biggest problems they'd ever face. Tugging her ponytail lose and removing the stained apron, one she'd been given two Christmases prior, throwing it on the dinner table, she placed her drawn, tired face in her shaking hands.

Suddenly, after an eternity to her, the black double doors opened and she raced to meet him in the entryway. He removed his coat and hat per his usual, placing them neatly on the coatrack beside the door, smiling at his wife. His smile dwindled at the sight of his wife so distraught, glancing over her body up and down, seeing the tight, worried expression on her pretty face.

"What's wrong?" he asked without introduction.

"This."

She thrust into his hands a piece of paper that would change their lives.

A letter.

For the letter had not been addressed to Hermione nor Draco. In fact, the letter had been addressed to the other occupant of the house. An eleven-year-old occupant. An eleven-year-old occupant whose name had been written in dark green ink.

Shocked just as much as his wife, Draco gasped out, "Dear Mr. Malfoy...we are pleased to inform you that you've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..."

Again, silence loomed.

0000000

_The End._

* * *

_A/N: So there you have it - the story is finally finished. What did you all think? Did the ending fit? Was Ginny not a total bad ass?! I'd love to know what you all thought about it. Oh and for those of you who were confused - the two deaths I mentioned were Blaise and Harry. I don't consider Voldemort a death considering...well, it IS Voldemort._

_Thank you very much to the faithful reviewers who were very patient with the story and remained loyal throughout. Thank you to those who stumbled on it randomly and later on, taking it on as though it just began. Even thank you to those who read yet never reviewed. Just, overall, thank you to anyone who took the time out to read it. I hope you all enjoyed it :) Also, special thank you to StormMasters and Kaylerose, the ones who gave me the inspiration for the story. (__According to my count - that's 6/6 requirments completed.)_

_There will be NO sequel._

_One more thing - EVERYONE HAVE FUN WATCHING THE MOVIE!!_

_READ AND REVIEW!! If you can read it, then you can review it._

_Evil's Mistress is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


End file.
